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(feat. O.C.) [Verse One: Prince Poetry] Here we go again with the funky intro People approach me knowin I'm the Prince Po- -E-T-R, Y, YES and I'm the first batter The Pharoahe usually go first, but it don't matter (Nah it don't matter) Funky slices of beats like this comes once in a blue, but it's not hard for me to chew So kick off your shoes and don't forget your socks I wash and wash them emcees like Clorox! Skills I have, good and plenty If you want dope lyrics but still gimmicks gimme Beats, equivalent to just something that I can Flow [flow] flow [flow] FLOAT ONnnnnn It's gettin breezy so kiddies'll keep ya coat on When I, proceed to, light the party In the summer, somethin like a Mardi, Gras Bikinis, panties, bras Juicin 'em and I'm suckin the girls up like straws OOPS upside ya dome I don't answer the phone when I'm home not alone, on the bone Leave your name and your number and a brief message at the end of the tone - BOOOP! Oooooh, and I like it; cause I'm Poetry the psychic Intellectual level would rather.. nah, nah I don't like that Letras de canciones.. yo scratch that (you can do better than that) one more time! Rollin lyrics, off the tip of my tongue [swing] I swing [swing], I swang [swang], I swung [swung] Bringin you the news like Kaity Chung But I'm not a pretty oriental specimen from "Hong Kong Fooey, numba one supa guy" I love the women but I don't try to see 'em I'd rather make the money bein on the cover of E.M. Get emcees mad make them flare up nostrils I'm Poetry the rap fanatic I get hostile! Yeah.. (hostile hostile hostile).. can I can I get a beat? Yo, Pharoahe's up next yo, yo Monch.. Kick it Monch [Verse Two: Pharoahe Monch] Pressure presssure pressure pressure pressure pressure cooker I leave the party when I mass a lot of hookers Slip and slide, I sling the sludge [fudge] fudge [pudge] pudge, but never hold a grudge Up against the wall, I caught you with the drugs [The organism's on the jury] guess who's the judge I hit the hook HEAVY Ready no chitter-chatter I figure since I'm bigger why pitter-patter Prouncin on particular poets who persist to portray professional punks You're just a pussy [MEOW] cat when I'm deckin you Disrespectin you, clever whenever I select a new dialogue One plus one get it together Girls don't despair cause I'll be your "Fair Weather Friend," friend No I don't have a Benz and no I don't have an Infiniti I figure the eight inches of MEAT, will be the remedy when I pull up to the bumper Cause I'll be down to thump a girl like Heather Hunter I tell you now you never hated (hated) The triple X when it comes to sex is what I'm rated I tell you know that I can give good love Yes I'm the one you should love (tell us about it) So don't try to diss Fudge Pudge Cause it's al-right, with, me Kick slick rhymes out of a mouth Tricky in a joust, plus I'm down with Mickey Mouse C'mon everyone, lets flow to the rhythm of my tongue To the rhythm of a drum Emcees wanna battle but they can't get with the Capital M-O-N-C-H on the mic I get swifter Than the rest of them maybe even the best Scorin one-oh-one on a poetical test So O.C. (C.) if you know who you are Get on the mic become a superstar [Verse Three: O.C.] The form I signify is cultivated why spread it Many many lyrics memorized inbedded In my think tank sharp as a shank knife I strike the mic just as quick as a snake bite Suck out the poison, yeah go 'head, try it Skills of an assassin, watch as I'll fly Thorough, doesn't matter the borough I'm swingin Clear to the end keep the party people clingin Treatin emcees like government cheese Shred 'em like cheddar cut 'em up cause P's laid out on the bed while we write to the tracks He's so funny when it comes to the snaps [snap, snap, snap] Write a hardcore rhyme, that's what the boy said I could whip up a rhyme that could slice a boar's head No that's ham, and we don't digest that Organism that's when a dog ate a rat So fee-fi-fum everybody's +Funky Drummin+ it When you hear the bassline, you'll be hummin it I'm keepin it simple cause I can swing many ways Rappers get MET, cause MET it pays It's a mad [mad] mad [mad] world and it's best to never wild out Go against me and I'm, quick to pull out The driveway by the way hey Picked up your girl cause she was goin MY WAY Hand on the stick, foot on the clutch Flowin over eighty miles per hour, I'll pull it on outta Skid marks left on the ground like tattoos The rubber smells badder than the doodoo on your shoes You stink, better think wise is what I advise Cause O.C. has skills to kill a whole tribe Off, awkward, spaghetti I'll sauce it Lyrics flow like fluid out of a faucet Yeahhh... [Outro: ad libs to fade] From Letras Mania