Текст песни: Poet Laureate II + перевод

Yo, why is the Ripper so ill?

That would be an unpardonable breach of confidence for me to reveal

He said, «One of these days, all eyes would be on me

When they look up in the sky and see the neon C»

Rhymes inscribed on a nickel disk encased

In glass with an ion beam for longevity

For more than ten centuries, impressions and memories

The first time-machine inventor will mention me

Canibus was a visionary indeed

He believed light could travel in multiples of C

The organic supercomputer that solved the mysteries of

Klein Kaluza with two blue metric rulers

Liked Cool J, but thought Stephen Jay Gould was cooler

And he never liked to propagate rumors

Smoked Canary Island cigars

Liked American luxury cars and beautiful Asian broads

He had a strong mind, he used to philosophize

About rhymes while he was pruning his bonsai

He claimed that he had written the greatest rhyme of all time

But he would never take it out his archives

He wrote two songs per day

And was constantly experimenting with his wordplay

In his youth he did a report on the Sloan Digital Sky Survey

He got an F but he deserved an A

I followed his career from the first day

It seemed a lack of support contributed to his inert ways

I seen him pull in twenty-four hour workdays

With deferred pay, undeterred by the word «shame»

Public humiliation was the worst pain

He was spinning out of control like a Class 5 hurricane

He said he wouldn’t want another MC to suffer the same

Especially when there’s nothing to gain

He was the illest alive but nobody would face it

He spit till his tongue was too torched to taste it

Privately funded corporations carbon dated his latest creations

To extract the information

They found it utterly amazing

They claimed the body of his work was the same thing as a priceless painting

Never mattered to him that art galleries hated him

'Cause Thomas Kinkade called and said he would take ten

Complete enigmas wrapped in puzzles encrypted in language

With sound but without shape or signature

Kept files in his garage on MS-DOS

In a fire-proof pod, we thought it was odd

Outside there was a shed with an Oppenheimer lock

He apparently kept more wax than Madame Tussaud’s

We were in total awe 'cause it blew our minds

So many rhymes that were intricately designed

He was Poet Laureate of his time

And if you don’t mind, I’d like to share some of his rhymes

Alone in my room looking through the 32X telescope zoom

Adjusting the focus of the moon

One should not assume the philosophy of David Hume

Is nothing more then a subjective conclusion

What is the maximum field rate application?

The runaway glaciation surrounding the ocean basin

Affects the population fluctuation

On a continuous basis but that’s just the basics

The juxtaposition of Canibus' position

The precision of something no other has written

Way above and beyond what was intended

The unparalleled malleable enunciation of a sentence

You didn’t go to college obviously

I can tell by your ungodly unintelligible terminology

A remarkable odyssey, the rhymes of modern speeds

When the brain orders the body not to breathe

Your competency is not up to speed, you’re not in my league

You couldn’t possibly be hotter then me

Or oppositely your minus twenty-five degrees

You’d squeeze but the condensation makes rifle barrels freeze

Allow me to speak figuratively, nigga please

My intellectual properties are about the size of Greece

Your counselor advised you not to speak

My counselor advised me to keep rhyming until they stopped the beat

In the words of Joseph Heller, «I learned how to write better

Even though it sort of irked me»

He said he didn’t understand the process of the imagination

But he felt he was at its mercy

Which explains my point perfectly and certainly reinforces

The reason why nobody’s probably ever heard of me

Couldn’t understand what I mean by ill

Unless you try to translate what I print to film

This is the line, the reel, the circle of time

The cycle of eternity, the emergence of one line

Academic phonetics render critics tongue-tied

And personifies dry humor of cum laude alumni

A wise man sees failure as progress

A fool divorces his knowledge and misses the logic

And loses his soul in the process

Obsessed with nonsense with a caricature that has no content

My style is masterful, multilateral

I could battle a fool and be naturally cruel

Words of scorn are a disastrous tool

From an existentialist’s view I’m a better rapper than you

Grab the mic and rip your physical fabric in two

My attitude is fucked up but admirable

Different methods interpreted into different forms

From entirely different perceptions and seen from different norms

Not just spitting a poem, there’s much more involved

There’s much more pieces of the puzzle for you to solve

Forty-eight orders of mechanical laws

And rays of creational cause enhance the cadence of my bars

Maybe I am self-absorbed

But that’s the effect, to find the cause you should ask my A&R

Today is what it is, but only because yesterday was what it was

Permitting you heard of Beelzebub

A tale of demons and drugs, pissy drunk in the club

With the DJ doing the needle rub

Chances are you’ll never see me son

Yeah I know my name’s Canibus but I can’t help you if you need a dub

I came to holla at some big booty bitches and listen to the speakers thump

Where you get conceited from?

I’m so nice on the mic they wanna beat me up

It’s deep as fuck, I ain’t seen it all but I’ve seen enough

Really unbelievable stuff

There’s a lot of times when I want to speak but I’m stuck

I should leave this rap shit alone

And kick my incredible rhymes in the privacy of my own home

My imagination is my own

The liberty to speak to freely lyrically on the microphone

With a pen in my hand, I bring motion to the Enneagram

And become «Can-I Millenium Man»

Engrave my back with the emperor’s stamp

Been spitting scientific rap since the 17th century began

Trying to escape the wicked empire of Def Jam

And the land where lyrics are bland and heretics hang

Every warrior has an axe to bury

But he has to learn to discern between enemy and adversary

I said to myself, «Germaine, this is insane

It’s suicide, it’s controlled flight into terrain»

I fought to regain control of the plane, but went up in a ball of flames

And got banned from the Hip-Hop hall of fame

For two bars I kept hearing in my head

Over and over again, it cost me everything

I’m convinced now that more than the truth is at stake

Where people create language that pretends to communicate

Euphemisms are misunderstood as mistakes

But its a byproduct of the ghetto music we make

From an extroverted point of view I think its too late

Hip Hop has never been the same since '88

Since it became a lucrative profession

There’s a misconception that a movement in any direction is progression

Even though the potency of it lessens

Big money industries writing checks to suppress the question

And nobody gives a fuck no more, no one goes to the book store

Ever since the confluence of Moore’s Law

But I stay in the lab like Niels Bohr and his son Aage

Edward Lorenz and Leo Szilard

Lyrically I took rap music and turned the knob

To the right full throttle and added panache

Why would I argue with my own conscience over the truth?

That’s like me telling myself, «Don't tell me what to do»

Dialyses and analyses of battle MCs

Sometimes I say things I myself can’t believe

My lyrical is so skillfully elliptical

I can understand how it makes you miserable

You wonder why I never let you play your beats for me

Or why I keep my studio enshrouded in secrecy

You wonder what’s my infatuation with Alicia Keys

«Canibus why don’t you speak to me?»

Yo, I meant it when I said no one can shine on a song that features me

That’s why I said it so vehemently

You need to replace the hate with respect

I’m probably the best yet, Poet Laureate

Generally I take… I go with the given, you know, with what comes ta me over,

the celestial wireless… Whenever it comes. You’re lucky when you get it