Songtext 20103579 Organized Konfusion

20103579

[prince poetry]
Capital p-to-the-r-to-the, i-to-the-n-to-the-c-to
The-e-to-the-p-to-the-o-to-the-e.. try harder, dont bother
Prince poetry, the man, not a myth
Im not the type that you can walk up and eff with
Dont sleep, just peep the whole damn connnnn-cept
Im out to wreck!! sucker mcs steppin to me with garbage
Im goldilocks and im, taxin your porridge (yeah!)
Ooooooh, cold but yummy
I slept in your bed, and your girl sucks funny
Im out to bash, beats and, drop snares
Crush tables and smash up chairs, yeah
So consider me on a rampage
I spread out and hit ya like a sawed off twelve gauge
So back up, dont play me close
Most boast to be the best, but you cant, and will never
Ever in your life, come close to a mic, assassinator
Im playin you out like beta
Im, watchin you, front
Flaunt your puss-head lookin just like bark
This is just a verbal whippin
For all you who dont fall, but you keep slippin
Shootin the gift for the guh-guh-gab
Im gonna dunk on your neck just like kareem
Ab-dul, yo and aint cool
So dont let me act like a fool
Cause Im takin off from the tip-top of the key
With the rock passed by the pharoahe m-o-n, c-h
The chosen lyrical soldier who backs me up
When punks verbally and, physically try to get over
With no skills, no comp..petition
Havin you reminiscin about a brother
Who dont give a damn about dissin
Black and white, clever like a superstition
Cause concepts flow, with the use of a
Pen, a sheet, and when braincells meet
Brain-bustin mcs try to get hype but
Smell like doo-doo cause they cant even wipe butt
Stuck-up and quite conceited
Your one hit song, all year long, at shows
Everybody knows it cause youre gonna repeat, like reruns
Put your iron away, cause I got three guns
Now that weve got things up and out in the open
And clear yo, grab a chair
Cause I swing with a style thats rather ill
The illiterate cant consider it legitimate so i
Kick simplistic rhymes for the plain
For the peanuts, I commence to go insane
Shredder of a competitor, makin it better for
Rap listeners, cause Im headed for
The top of the hill where jack cant chill
Just me and jill cause jack has no skills
Now tell me why everybody wants to be a prince
No skills, no sense, nonsense
Im steppin up front, and to be quite,
Blunt a radical creator of a poetical hypnotical mathematical
Slang slurs punch, that stuns and amazes
Prince poetry shoots powerful phrases
Interrupting your braincells, dilutin your thoughts
Causin side effects fully disintegratin body parts
Cause I stalk when I pray upon in the form of the flesh
Now weaken when prince poetry commence speakin
Side by side I rock with the pharoahe
Watch you decomposin mcs, and look theres only a shadow
Too late, cause Im gone, I explode
And I drop a hip-hop again, atomic, atom bomb
Releasin that you better not be usin
Organizin beats that you find konfusin

[pharoahe monch]
Yeah.. here we go..
Aiyyo umm prince (yo!) brothers try to swing on me
Nut I dont think they can hit it (nah)
These (these) styles, mcs they, just cant get it (why? )
The way I ar-ti-cu-late my flows (my flows!)
Sometimes I think I know some shit
Some mcs just dont know; the
Quicker Im kickin the style
Slippin and stickin the words hit quicker
Better figure the verbs are thick in you
While the poetical fanatical rap acrobatical style
Static never had any so Im packin a black
Automatic pistol itchy by the c.i.a.
By the way, my display of rhymes that I will lay
Down on wax, distributed from a zodiac
Digitally, with a funky appeal
From the reel to reel, it doesnt matter
I still got the skill to get ill
Straight literature when you try to hit em with your
Wack style, the critics are sore to crack smiles
So back up black cause you lack the skills
When I ask your girl, tax your girl
She said she wanted it from the back so I waxed your girl
So why would you try to swing, on a nigga
With a itchy trigger finger better bring a bigger auto
Hit, swing a nigga if you wanna get rid of me (damn)
Your first mistake, was to consider me
A new jack black when I ahhhh-lready knew that
So get back, step back, move back, out of my way
When I roll offbeat (offbeat) again
Again and again and again and again and again
Blending the style, mending it like this
So that you can check it out when I flow awkwardly
Awkwardly I flow, yo, lets go
Most dont recollect me as t-r-o, y
Cause ima get fly, with a microphone
Dope with a microphone, you cant cope with a microphone
Cause ima be illin, buckin off into your grill and
Fillin your face with knuckles and watchin the blood spill in
Down the sewer, always knew I could do a brother
With a crew of, good mcs
Or maybe even a few are stale mcs
I scatter data thatll catapault a metaphor
The epitcle epilogue editor
Trendsetter, letters are formin together
In the jaw side of my mouth, Im alphabetic
Call me a librarian, rhymes are scary when
I mix verbs and phrases and put the vocabulary in places
Where, only the m-o-n-c-h can do it
So dont ever despise
Red is the color when you look in to my organized/eyes
Youll see konfusion
When Im usin a style for abusin mcs are loosin.. quick
The o-r-g-a-n-i-z-e-d-k-o-n-f-u-s-i-n-g will transmit!