[Intro: sample]
Necronomicon
And there is variation in the analogy of where these things have come from. One is the idea that they were created by these giants. They were created by the watcher themselves. They can manifest…

[Hook: Canibus]
‘Nothing to Prove’, ‘Nothing to Lose’
Can-I-Bus busting in the booth
Straight out the Goetia to eat you
This is the fire breather
’Nothing to Prove’, ‘Nothing to Lose’
Can-I-Bus and Mic Club busting in the booth

[Canibus]
Microphone check one-two, you know what it is
Can-I-Bus, still getting biz
With mics, gas molecules emit light
I bring delta T.C. squared to the fistfight
First I developed offence
Then negotiate disarmament from the other side of the fence
Hence, the tetrahedron is a prison for a four headed demon
I weaken, every time I see him
Fight for my freedom, under the fig tree bleeding
I create Hip Hop but don't need it
I turn my back on rap like God turned his back on Eden
To return like Cat Stevens
For those who believe it, I live it, I breathe it
I smash mics to pieces, that's the secret
I cannot fail, I rock bells
On the Ho Chi Minh trail to the song of the nightingale
Any artist, can turn a garden into a desert
But can he turn a desert into a garden?
That's where I come in, running, straight gunning
Ready to punish, n***a I don't budge one inch
Fuck it, double the budget
N***as turned Hip Hop to something it wasn't
Made it hard to love it
So I come back to conquer with a monster mantra
My spiritual father is Swami Vivekananda
Rhymes promote freedom, stabilize the region
Think for yourselves, it's just like breathing
The departed Hip Hop artist regarding the condition of the carnage
Dead farmers I already saw it
Back to the army, back to Pathari, Tari
Back to the heartbeat, offbeat on a dark street
Comfy aggressive assistive training
Hajji somewhere waiting, one minute remaining
Satellites counter locating, the bloodbath begins bathing
We both believe we're fighting Satan
But we both got the same god, who accepts the same sacrifice
Blood, tears, life
Fine picks and trowels are real I was holding a weapon
When I was overpowered, there was no album
Thirty minute sessions cleaning weapons, asking myself questions
About what happened last mission
Radiation isolation, I'm an asshole but I'm patient for a nurse with nice shaped tits
I'm a poet, my house is a palace
A small cavernous passage darker than the Catacombs of Paris
Chateau de Canibus, Saint Germaine sadomasochist
I don't use chains to trap a bitch
Don't get distracted, repeat your rap schematic
Over and over until it's automatic
My body is a machine, machines need fuel
Two gastro-nasal tubes feed me smoothie food
The recluse clearly produced
The abstract schematic you can use over a freshly squeezed glass of pear juice
Right side paralyzed above the waist
Below the waist the left side paralyzed, this a unique case
It's a challenge to rhyme great, lost weight
Lost sense of smell and taste, wasting away paying attention to space
Saying "Wait! Open the gate", rusty screwers reverberate
Through the deserted desolate space of this purgative place
Grimoires of metaphor law make your skin crawl
’Nothing to Prove’, this is lyrical law