Organized Konfusion - Thirteen lyrics

[pharoahe monch] Comin ahh, comin ahh I'm comin like a redneck trucker! Watch your back *screech* you can't steer it Face the ba**; 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 n***a you oughta watch it, my whole herd's packin f** 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 f**in 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 a**ault and conquer, the cult and brainwash And squash your little minds with rhymes Rhymes that are rituals So i say motherf**er, b**h-a** and glock to spark brain cells Not to sell units, you know They say motherf**er, b**h-a** 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 gla** 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 sh** 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 sh**, i tell your empty mind Teachin i'm kickin the poor black sh** 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 ma**es, kickin a lot of a**es 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 f** em s** my dick, from the back With a crazy straw, you lazy who*e Do that sh** to make a dick expand but whatcha did No chief, no heads Mooley, what am i an a**hole? [prince poetry] a**hole! What am i?... ahh! uhh! mmm, hah!