Organized Konfusion

Organized Konfusion - Stress lyrics

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Crush  kill  destroy  stress
 Verse One: Prince Poetry
 Pain  stress
 My brain  can't even rest
 It's hard to maintain the pressure on my chest
 Excess frustration strikes!
 Blood rushes my head when I come across roads
 With dead mics and wack promoted shows it's hard
 But with the presence of God
 I'm true to the game
 So I'm back black  to take charge  and recap ture
 the time, wish it could never be wack -- I'm pure
 I insert my lifeline into the track, the energy
 In me is a poison with no un-revealed remedy
 I'm spreading, like leprosy, throughout the record label
 Cause mines put me and Monch's career in jeapordy
 Can you come see me in the ghetto where it's dark
 Bullets are real lost peeps lurks in the heart
 Lord knows it hurts, we kick the Hertz to the curb
 Execute first things first, and put blunted minds to work
 My herd's tight and my fans supports
 So I'm a-ight, for the time being seeing peace
 But taking no shorts (no shorts)

 Chorus

 (album version includes a short "taxi cab" skit here)

 Verse Two: Pharoahe Monch

 Rarrrrrgh!
 You will now consider me the apocalyptic one
 After this rhyme, henceforth, there is none
 NO more will exist, when I emerge
 From the mist in whence I was born into, scorned
 Most of you can't even comprehend what I am saying
 to you even in my human form the message I'm relaying
 Why do you choose to mimic these wack MC's?
 Why do you choose to listen to R&B?
 Why must you believe somethin is fat
 Just because it's played on the radio, 20 times per day?
 My perception of poetical injection is ejactulation
 The Immaculate Conception
 The hall walker, who stalks bodies in Central Park
 Soon emergency services'll outline that body in chalk
 Then I begin to walk away and spit
 Then when I walk away I talk shit!
 Huh, a driver sprayed my face with mace
 She didn't know that I enjoyed the taste of radioactive waste
 When I'm in the backseat of your mid-town taxi
 Don't even ask me for the cash G
 The four cabs before didn't pick me up
 Now ask yourself who the fuck's gonna stick me up

 Chorus
Get this song at:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: Charles Mingus, Pharoahe Monch, Prince Po

Composer: ?

Publisher: Hollywood BASIC

Details:

Released in: 1994

Language: English

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