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