Thirteen Lyrics - Organized Konfusion

[pharoahe monch] 

Comin ahh, comin ahh 

I'm comin like a redneck trucker! 

Watch your back *screech* you can't steer it 

Face the bass; crumb you run when you hear it 

It's the most incredible rap individual style 

Piles up, like drug cases in queens 

Country criminal court, shorty, step back 

Nigga you oughta watch it, my whole herd's packin 

Fuck rappin, let's take it to the corner of the block 

And battle with the (techs) and the (glocks) 

But if you would like it to the stage and mic it 

C'mon dere, that's how I like it, uhh 

Hit me in the face why don't ya 

Prince po will hunt ya and puncture your voodoo doll 

Pharoahe, I'm no slave to a rhythm I whip it 

Then I take it's name and change it's religion 

Then I chop the foot off the fuckin beat 

For trying to escape the track, now it's obsolete 

That's just the state of mind that I'm in when i... 

Chorus 

I, I used to play beats on the lunchroom table 

This it really enables me to stay stable inside of my mind 

Thus allowing me to climb and then shine 

This is a process that will occur in due time 

Bust, everything I thrust is activated 

Styles I file are not decaffinated, I'm rough 

Tougher than tonka, why I even electrify the sky 

As if I was blanka 

Kids follow me and my phillies like willy wonka 

Silly, I assault and conquer, the cult and brainwash 

And squash your little minds with rhymes 

Rhymes that are rituals 

So I say motherfucker, bitch-ass and glock to spark brain cells 

Not to sell units, you know 

They say motherfucker, bitch-ass and glock 

For the periodical table of contents symbol au 

Hey you, you can't deny when I bust caps the whole block scatters 

Scraps of matter shatter mad glass and what not 

Crazy medical attention is needed to make a cop stop bleedin 

Then I'm proceedin up the block with prince po, renegade 

Raps shatter shows like grenades 

I rip your shit like sinead when i... 

Chorus 

Pa-pa-pa power power, augh, I got the power 

Gimme a pen and a pad I'll be back in an hour 

With some more fat shit, I tell your empty mind 

Teachin I'm kickin the poor black shit now 

La-di-da, I flip it la-di 

Live at a mardi gras, or even at a party 

Give me bacardi (hah) I smoke blunts 

Stunts I wanna hump, chumps I wanna pump em full of *blam* 

I never ask the crowd to "jump" 

I kick a rhyme, that ask-es you to use your mind 

Flippin it for the masses, kickin a lot of asses 

The m-o-n-c-h-e I drink, forties of brew 

With the crew that rolls deeper than the mediterranean 

Here comes the rain again! 

Flowin on my head like a memory, now I got energy 

That's for the enemies, that's in the industry 

Who don't wanna be friends with me, I say fuck em 

Suck my dick, from the back 

With a crazy straw, you lazy whore 

Do that shit to make a dick expand but whatcha did 

No chief, no heads 

Mooley, what am I an asshole? 

[prince poetry] 

Asshole! 

What am i? ... ahh! uhh! mmm, hah!