🔥 LL Cool J DESTROYS Cannabis’s Career 😱 “I WARNED Him… Don’t Come for the KING!”

It began with a compliment.

In August 1997, LL Cool J was in the studio recording a track called 4,3,2,1, alongside rap heavyweights Redman, Method Man, DMX, Master P—and a rising lyrical monster named Canibus.

At the time, Canibus was still making a name for himself.

He was hungry, humble, and honored to be on a track with a legend like LL.

While in the studio, Canibus noticed LL’s infamous microphone tattoo inked boldly on his arm.

Inspired and maybe trying to bond with his idol, he said, “Yo L, is that a mic on your arm? Let me borrow that.

” For Canibus, it was homage.

For LL? It was disrespect.

Years later, LL would admit that he wasn’t in the right mindset.

He was an “egomaniac” at the time.

He didn’t take it as a compliment.

He saw it as someone trying to wear his crown—or in his words, “like someone trying to wear my boxing trunks.

” That was all it took.

When Canibus laid his original verse for 4,3,2,1, he included the now-infamous line:

“L, is that a mic on your arm? Let me borrow that.”

It was a metaphor.

It was lyrical respect.

But LL heard war drums.

He made Canibus change his verse or get removed from the song entirely.

Canibus agreed—but on one condition: LL would also remove his retaliatory lines aimed at Canibus.

LL agreed.

But when the track dropped? LL kept all his disses.

He lied.

And the world noticed.

“You don’t want to borrow that / You want to idolize… You ain’t real on my arm, n**a, you’re a hologram.”

Canibus was caught off guard—and humiliated.

The record dropped.

His verse was neutered.

LL’s verse clowned him.

And to make it worse, Canibus wasn’t even invited to the video shoot.

Instead of going straight to war, Canibus reached out to LL and tried to resolve it.

On a phone call, he opened up emotionally, saying he had nothing but his name, his bars, and his street rep.

He pleaded with LL to help clear up the misunderstanding.

LL’s response? Cool, calm, manipulative.

He told Canibus to let it go.

That the public didn’t know what was really happening.

That if they addressed the beef, it would make things worse.

In LL’s words: “Sometimes you open a can of worms thinking you’re closing a can of worms.”

Translation? LL was playing chess.

He knew he had the upper hand.

He knew Canibus was trying to be respectful—and he used that against him.

After months of silence, the pressure got too heavy.

The rumors were everywhere.

Canibus was being labeled soft.

Weak.

A wannabe.

So on March 24, 1998, Canibus dropped his reply: “Second Round KO.”

And he did not hold back.

With Mike Tyson literally narrating the intro, Canibus unleashed a lyrical nuke aimed directly at LL Cool J:

“You studied my rhymes, then you laid your vocals after mine… That’s something a homosexual rapper would do.”

“I let you kick a verse, I’ll let you kick ‘em all.

I’ll even wait for the studio audience to applaud.”

“Greatest rapper of all time died on March 9th.”

Every bar was a scalpel.

Canibus exposed LL’s broken promises, his manipulation, and even accused him of blackballing him in the industry.

And just like that, the quiet kid from the underground had cornered a hip-hop icon.

LL had no choice but to respond.

On April 28, 1998, he fired back with “The Ripper Strikes Back.” And it hit just as hard.

“You want the fame? Now you’re famous overnight.

Congratulations.”

“Don’t hate me because I’m paid, hate me because I’m everything you want to be.”

The world was on fire.

But while Canibus won the lyrical battle in many fans’ eyes, he lost the war.

LL Cool J was a powerhouse.

He had the machine behind him—label backing, radio access, and mainstream visibility.

Canibus, despite his raw talent, was an underground artist with no infrastructure.

And soon after the beef, doors started closing.

His debut album Can-I-Bus dropped later that year.

It was loaded with subliminals aimed at LL, and while it had buzz, it didn’t perform the way fans expected.

The hype faded.

The media dubbed him “the rapper who dissed LL”.

And by 1999, he was already considered past his prime.

LL, on the other hand? Still thriving.

Billboard hits, movies, TV deals.

He was uncancellable.

And he wasn’t done twisting the knife.

In 2000, LL went on Rap City and dropped more bars aimed at Canibus.

In “Back Where I Belong”, he openly mocked his former protégé:

“I tried to show you mercy… I could’ve told the world how your label hates your guts.”

“Me and Wild West set you up.”

By 2003, Canibus was finished mentioning LL on records.

On Rip the Jacker, he nodded at the beef for the last time.

And then? Silence.

For years, that was it.

Until December 19, 2014.

At Hot 97’s Holiday Show, LL Cool J shocked the crowd by bringing Canibus on stage.

The two shared a moment.

It looked like closure.

But then, just as Canibus walked away, LL turned to the crowd and mocked him again:

“Yo, your career is starting again, baby!”

It was the final jab.

The final reminder that LL Cool J didn’t just win the beef—he buried his opponent.

On Drink Champs, LL was even praised for “crushing” Canibus’s career.

And while some fans applauded the lyrical warfare, others knew the truth: Canibus didn’t lose because he wasn’t skilled—he lost because he challenged a king at the wrong time.

Even LL later admitted it was all ego.

That he was too immature.

That he could’ve taken it as a compliment.

But by the time he realized that, it was too late.

He didn’t just battle a young artist—he dismantled him.

So what’s the lesson? In hip-hop, talent alone isn’t enough.

Timing.

Power.

Ego.

These things decide who rises and who falls.

And when Canibus asked to borrow that mic tattoo, he didn’t just touch a nerve—he signed his own rap death certificate.

Rest in peace to the career of Canibus.

He came for the king… and got crushed.