[Pharoahe Monch]
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I stand here before the forces of evil with a style
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The poetically God-gifted child
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Bringin forth the story of a lyrical soldier
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Blessed to manifest in the eyes of the beholder
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Words of wisdom never abuse the lines
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they increase, as I release a phrase like a uzi 9
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from the larynx
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Shot in repitition, words never heard before
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but still the rendition of rap will enable me to attack
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from dawn to dusk, for liberation
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Driven I will never give in to interrogation
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The rank, given to me, the Pharoahe
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Cause every bro flows like a crossbow
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Equipped to pierce your soul with a poison-tip arrow
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Any man wearing a blindfold can be misled
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but wise are the ones with the eyes in the backs of the head
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Here's the key to unlock the door:
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Imagine a poet without poetical form
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Rhymes are for sure as an attack
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cause they adapt to combat for the prisoners of war
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[Prince Poetry]
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I drop smash and causin damage equivalent
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to a hy-drogen bomb, raidin villages like
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a poetical soldier in Vietnam, Poetry
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releasin deadly gasses, bodies deteriorating
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as they stalk past the fatal acid
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As a rebel of rap, I stop, load the Luger
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as I manuever with the caution as I verbally counterattack
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Striking like a mad sniper cause I'm the type of
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hyperactive viper to wipe away the enemy with no remedy
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cause I'm the epitome so don't try to get rid of me
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You little itty-bitty twenty-five automatic, you're killin me
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cause I'm a glock 9 that will rock your mind
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Distortin it, shorten your brainwaves
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as the rhyme intertwine with the sign of the times
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Don't sleep cause I creep attackin from the side
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that is blind, therefore I gotta be hard to the core
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And I walk, as a prisoner of war
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[Pharoahe Monch]
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Wake up to the mathematics of an erratic rap
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Rejuvenator of rhyme, that sort of come automatic
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Poetical medical medicine for the cerebellum
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I divert em and flirt em insert em then I repel em
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a breakdown, poetical shakedown
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Fifty-two pick-up a stick-up so get on the floor facedown
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The ammo to keep the people steppin
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breakin open the vault because I'm like a verbal assault weapon
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I'm mathematical, acrobatical
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Attack the wack take rap to the maximum
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You're strung out you're hung out when you heard the style
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that I brung out of faint air must come out my mouth
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where I stick my tongue out in the at-mos-phere
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Take a good look at what's happening here
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On the microphone, I'm RAPPIN
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Pickin-em-stickin-em up, breakin-em-shakin-em up, and bashin
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the lyric dictator, the aviator of antonym
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All beware to prepare for the guillotine
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Rhymes go express, expert, extreme
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Be up to par with wisdom and intellect
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Detatching one's head directly from one's neck
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Still I've been illing and drilling your brain
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like a villain I came in the darkness to spark the literature for sure
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when I rhyme for the prisoners of war
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[Prince Poetry]
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There is strength in my men-tal-bolism, brains to spare
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upon info, knowledge, data, greater aspects
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affects my future environment
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So in the event I drop science to suit ya, uproot ya
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Hunt ya down
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Verbally attackin from the ground up to intellectually shoot ya
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Lurkin through the shadows of darkness, shots fired
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the spark hits the trees, releasin lyrical ammo
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while I camoflouge in the flash of my stature
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Mentally cease MC's, that be surrounded I capture
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And enemy lines are crushed, bumrushed
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And plus your government officials are corrupted
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cause they're down with us; poetical rebels on a rampage
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of wrecked dialects, blown lyric projects
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Heat is scopin you through my infrared twenty-twenty
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scope lens, steppin upon base that's when the
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Organized Konfusion massacre begins with a blast
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Never will an intruder approach cause they will never ever last
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cause the task is total termination
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Poetry and the Pharoahe starts as the revelation
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-----------------
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Prisoners of War
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| Organized Konfusion |
