Organized Konfusion

Lyrics

[Verse 1: 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 Don't bother Prince Poetry, the man, not a myth I'm not the type that you can walk up and F with Don't sleep, just peep the whole damn Concept, I'm out to wreck Sucker MCs steppin' to me with garbage I'm Goldilocks and I'm taxin' your porridge (Yeah) Ooh, cold, but yummy I slept in your bed and your girl sucks funny I'm 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, don't play me close Most boast to be the best, but you can't And will never ever in your life come close to a mic assassinator I'm playin' you out like Beta I'm watchin' you front Flauntin' your pus-head lookin' just like bark This is just a verbal whippin' For all you who don't fall, but you keep slippin' Shootin' the gift of the g— g— gab I'm gonna dunk on your neck just like Kareem Abdul Yo, and it ain't cool So don't let me act like a fool 'Cause I'm 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 that 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 don't give a damn about dissin' Black and quite clever like a superstition 'Cause concepts flow with the use of a Pen, a sheet, and when brain cells meet Brain-bustin' MCs try to get hype, but Smell like doo-doo 'cause they can't even wipe butt Stuck-up and quite conceited Your one hit song all year long at shows Everybody knows it, 'cause you're gonna repeat it like reruns Put your iron away, 'cause I got three guns Now that we've got things up and out in the open And clear, yo, grab a chair 'Cause I swing with a style that's rather ill The illiterate can't consider it legitimate, so I Kick simplistic rhymes for the plain For the peanuts, I commence to go insane Shredder of the competitor, makin' it better for Rap listeners, 'cause I'm headed for The top of the hill where Jack can't 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 I'm 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 brain cells, 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 Watchin' you decomposin' MCs, and look there's only a shadow Too late, 'cause I'm gone, I explode And I drop a hip-hop again, atomic, atom bomb Releasin' lyrics that you better not be usin' Organizin' beats that you find confusin' [Verse 2: Pharoahe Monch] Ayo, um, Prince (Yo), brothers try to swing on me But I don't think they can hit it (Nah) These styles, MCs they just can't get it (Why?) The way I articulate my flows (My flows) Sometimes I think I know some shit Some MCs just don't know the Quicker I'm kickin' the style I'm 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 it so I'm 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 doesn't matter I still got the skill to get ill Straight literature when you try to hit 'em with your Wack style, the critics are sure 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 already knew that So get back, step back, move back out of my way When I roll off-beat (Off-beat) 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, let's go Most don't recollect me as T-R-O-Y 'Cause I'ma get fly with a microphone Dope with a microphone, you can't cope with a microphone 'Cause I'ma be illin', buckin' off into your grill and Fillin' your face with knuckles and watchin' the blood spillin' 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 that'll catapult a metaphor The epit-icle epilogue editor Trendsetter, letters are formin' together In the jaw inside of my mouth, I'm 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 don't ever despise me Red is the color when you look in to my organ-eyes You'll see confusion When I'm usin' a style for abusin', MCs are losin' Quick The O-R-G-A-N-I-Z-E-D K-O-N-F U-S-I-N-G will transmit