Organized Konfusion

[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 EFF with Don't sleep, just peep the whole damn connnnn-cept I'M OUT TO WRECK!! Sucker MC's steppin to me with garbage I'm Goldilocks and I'm taxin' your porridge (yeah!) Ooooooh, 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 Flaunt your puss-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 for the GUH-GUH-GAB I'm gonna dunk on your neck just like Kareem Ab-dul, 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 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 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 braincells meet Brain-bustin' MC's 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 a 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 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 Watchin' you decomposin' MC's, 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 Konfusin' [Pharoahe Monch] Yeah.. here we go.. Aiyyo umm Prince (yo!) Brothers try to swing on me But I don't think they can hit it (nah) These styles, MC'S they, JUST CAN'T GET IT (why?) The way I ar-ti-cu-late my flows (my flows!) Sometimes I think I know some shit Some MC's just don't know; THE Quicker I'm 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 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 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 already 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, 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 spill in Down the sewer, always knew I could do a brother With a crew of, good MC's Or maybe even a few are stale MC's I scatter data that'll catapault a metaphor The epitcle epilogue editor Trendsetter, letters are formin' together In the jaw side 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 Red is the color when you look in to my Organized (eyes) You'll see Konfusion When I'm usin' a style for abusin' MC's are loosin'.. quick The O-R-G-A-N-I-Z-E-D-K-O-N-F-U-S-I-N-G will TRANSMIT!