Intro - Canibus

Calling all dogs, calling all dogs

Be on the look out for a big homo nigga with dimples

And I’mma let y’all know somethin', it ain’t just start here

We’ve been preyin' on that ass since «Jack the Ripper»

And now its time to rip the jacker

(ahhhhhhhhhhh …)

No rapper could rap quite like I can

You know who the fuck I am, I’m the Canibus man

I had to rock to a beat like this to show you

That I’m iller then the future, the present, and the old you

I told you, wish you could take it all back don’t you

Tried to smoke some cannabis but Canibus smoked you

Calling yourself the greatest is something you don’t do

Cause after I humiliate you what will the G.O.A.T.

do

You can’t rap or act my main man

You goin' end up as an intern working for Def Jam

See you was never bad enough to battle with Canibus

You out of luck, I crushed you the minute I got tatted up

And every lie you told just added up cause you wasn’t man enough

To be fair, but I’m mad as fuck and I’ve had enough

Jack the ripper or I’mma rip the jacker

Rape a rapper with a classic from his own masters

You’re dead

There’s a rumor going around that I got dropped

200,000 albums sold at 10 dollars a pop

300,000 albums were shipped, you do the math

Thats 3 million in 3 months so kiss my ass

All these magazines tried to steamroll me to death

Guess what, the G.O.A.T.

ain’t platinum and neither is 'Clef

And I’m still here, inspite of all that shit them niggas said

The skinny kid, the music industry’s guinea pig

Tighter than ever, world’s chief mic wrecka

Tougher than Reverend Run’s muthafuckin' leather

I’m hardcore, cum shot right in your wife’s face

You soft porn, you held hands on the first date

See when you was making records like I need love

Your homie Cornell was givin' it to you up the butt

Plus I heard Simone was the high school slut

And she learned how to fuck before she knew how to cuss

Nigga you’re dead

You married a slut and had kids with her to cover up your hustle

You and your man Russell made a better couple

Your probably mad as fuck, wondering where I got the information from

Your being watched even when you take a dump

Its impossible to front, you can’t hide

The chairs at your label got ears and the walls got eyes

You’re living one big lie, the world just don’t know

You take a polygraph test that shit would probably explode

The truth is Mr. Smith you got a fucked up attitude

God knows that I pity your fans for backing you

Yo, this be the realest shit I ever wrote

You should change your muthafuckin' name from G.O.A.T.

to G.L.O.A.T

The Greatest Liar Of All Time that cannot rhyme

That cannot shine as long as I’m alive

Your prime ended 8 months before '99

And that microphone on your arm will always be mine

Nigga you’re dead

I told you to leave it alone, but you was too stubborn

Now you’re in a world where the hunter becomes the hunted

Your wife is scared cause she don’t want to lose a husband

And somebody keeps paging you putting 4321 in

You can’t sleep at night thinking about the drama

Shit stains all up in your phat farm pyjamas

Even f.u.b.u.

gear looks hot until it touches you

Probably because your father undoubtedly butt-fucked you

Mama said knock who out?

I’ll punch that bitch in the mouth

Cause she don’t know what she talking about

Ay yo, do me a favor when you see your ghostwriters

Tell them the rhymes they wrote for you should have been a lot tighter

You could have asked me, I’ll write you some lines

I’ll do anything for the greatest loser of all time

You still drippin' with wack juice cause you wack nigga

If you want the last word you can have it, I’m still iller

You’re dead