Текст песни Thirteen - 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!
![Organized Konfusion - Stress: The Extinction Agenda](https://pic.Lyrhub.com/img/c/4/5/w/t703ckw54c.jpg)
1 Intro
2 Stress
3 The Extinction Agenda
4 Thirteen
5 Black Sunday
6 Drop Bombs
7 Bring It On
8 Why
9 Let's Organize
10 3-2-1
11 Keep It Koming
12 Stray Bullet
13 Maintain
14 Stress - Remix
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