Lyrics:

Artist Canibus
album c True Hollywood Stories
song The Rip Off
producer Chips
time 4.24

{crowd Chanting}
can-I-Bus, Can-I-Bus, Can-I-Bus
can-I-Bus, Can-I-Bus, Can-I-Bus (2x)

can I Rip It (Yes You Can!)
can I Rip It (Yes You Can!)
can I Rip It (Yes You Can!)
well Im Gone (Oh!)

(Canibus)
my Brain Races To Create These Lyrical Mosaics,
like Paintings, To Me, Record Stores And Art Galleries
are Merely The Same Thing
i Feel Like Im Rembrandt And My Man Van Gogh Is A Mason
canibus Is Not Some Average Rap Patron, Have Some Patience
i Went Through Changes Not Being With The Majors And All
till My Man Louis Lombard Gave Me A Call
and Talked About Some Other Way To Cake Off
i Thought, Hmm, I Could Make More He Said, sure
i Could Put You In About Three Thousand Stores
and Get At Least Fifty Thousand Orders
maybe More Bis, Who Knows Your Fan Base Is Enormous
well Of Course, Look Who Ive Toured With... Wyclef
i Didnt Sell Twenty Million cause It Wasnt My Time Yet
im Satisfied With The Lineup Ive Rhymed With
kool G Rap, Pharaohe Monch And Rakim
including Future Superstars Ive Worked With Thus Far
like Free From 106 And Park
you Need To Understand Something, Bis Is Raw
raw To The Floor, Raw Like reservoir Dogs
and Mechanical Mandible Jaws Split You In Half
addicted To Ripping Jackers But Ill Rip A Jackass
before We Battle Theres Two Questions I Have To Ask
are You Carrying Any Firearms And Did You Pack Your Bags
cool, cause Im Gonna Make You Feel Real Bad
and Im Gonna Make You So Mad That Youll Probably Spaz
i Can See You Trying To Get Me Like They Got Biggie
somewhere In The City On A Pretty Day When Im Dressing Jiggy
and Ive Got Security With Me
ill Give You A Buck Fifty So Quickly You Wont Even Notice Your Nose Dripping
so Much Blood On The Floor You Might As Well Be Pretending To Be Mud Wrestling
a Dozen Bitches P-M-S-Ing.
sounds Kind Of Tempting Doesnt It
dissing Me Wasnt Really Worth It, Was It
im Bugging I Know A Lot Of Yall Loved It
and Tried To Convince The Public To Say, fuck Bis! But Just Think
i Played Yall Like A Bunch Of Puppets
you Played Russian Roulette With A Musket And Got Busted In Your Own Nugget
a Twenty-One Gun Salute With No Bullets And No Trumpets
while The Rain Pours And The Storm Thunders
your Rotting Carcass Smells So Pungent It Turns My Stomach
attracts The Buzzards And Fox Eyewitness News Coverage
rip The Jackers On The Loose In London
he Slipped Through U.s. Customs And Flew To Dublin
fronting As A Janitor In A School Or Something
working For Little Or Nothing, Im Warning You Dont Trust Him
hes A Complete Risk To The American Public
and Dont Ever Call The Law cause He Thinks Hes Above It
lets Get One Thing Straight
you Cant Touch Him, Outsmart Him, Out Muscle Him, Or Out Hustle Him
you Cant Beat Him Join Him. You Cant Join Him Fuck Him!
can-I-Bus, Either You Hate Him Or You Love Him

can I Rip It (Yes You Can!)
can I Rip It (Yes You Can!)
can I Rip It (Yes You Can!)
well Im Gone (Oh!)

(Canibus)
i Seen You At Ruby Tuesdays With A Toupee
talking On Your Two-Way, You Look Gay
nigga, I Dont Give A Fuck About The Games You Play
ill Gnaw On Your Bones Till My Teeth Turn Blue-Grey
or Turn Yellow Like I Aint Brushed In A Few Days
and The Blood Starts To Taste Like Red Toothpaste
nigga, This Aint Communion And That Aint Kool-Aide
delicacies The F.d.a. Wont Approve In The States
like A Little Witchs Brew In Your Vanilla Latte
or Perhaps Fillet Of Dog In A Malaysian Caf