Organized Konfusion - Thirteen Lyrics
[pharoahe monch]Comin ahh, comin ahhIm comin like a redneck trucker!Watch your back *screech* you cant steer itFace the bass; crumb you run when you hear itIts the most incredible rap individual stylePiles up, like drug cases in queensCountry criminal court, shorty, step backNigga you oughta watch it, my whole herds packin***** rappin, lets take it to the corner of the blockAnd battle with the (techs) and the (glocks)But if you would like it to the stage and mic itCmon dere, thats how I like it, uhhHit me in the face why dont yaPrince po will hunt ya and puncture your voodoo dollPharoahe, Im no slave to a rhythm I whip itThen I take its name and change its religionThen I chop the foot off the *****in beatFor trying to escape the track, now its obsoleteThats just the state of mind that Im in when i...ChorusI, I used to play beats on the lunchroom tableThis it really enables me to stay stable inside of my mindThus allowing me to climb and then shineThis is a process that will occur in due timeBust, everything I thrust is activatedStyles I file are not decaffinated, Im roughTougher than tonka, why I even electrify the skyAs if I was blankaKids follow me and my phillies like willy wonkaSilly, I assault and conquer, the cult and brainwashAnd squash your little minds with rhymesRhymes that are ritualsSo I say mother*****er, *****-ass and glock to spark brain cellsNot to sell units, you knowThey say mother*****er, *****-ass and glockFor the periodical table of contents symbol auHey you, you cant deny when I bust caps the whole block scattersScraps of matter shatter mad glass and what notCrazy medical attention is needed to make a cop stop bleedinThen Im proceedin up the block with prince po, renegadeRaps shatter shows like grenadesI rip your shit like sinead when i...ChorusPa-pa-pa power power, augh, I got the powerGimme a pen and a pad Ill be back in an hourWith some more fat shit, I tell your empty mindTeachin Im kickin the poor black shit nowLa-di-da, I flip it la-diLive at a mardi gras, or even at a partyGive me bacardi (hah) I smoke bluntsStunts I wanna hump, chumps I wanna pump em full of *blam*I never ask the crowd to jumpI kick a rhyme, that ask-es you to use your mindFlippin it for the masses, kickin a lot of assesThe m-o-n-c-h-e I drink, forties of brewWith the crew that rolls deeper than the mediterraneanHere comes the rain again!Flowin on my head like a memory, now I got energyThats for the enemies, thats in the industryWho dont wanna be friends with me, I say ***** emSuck my dick, from the backWith a crazy straw, you lazy whoreDo that shit to make a dick expand but whatcha didNo chief, no headsMooley, what am I an *****?[prince poetry]*****!What am i? ... ahh! uhh! mmm, hah!
