ORGANIZED KONFUSION - Stress Lyrics

[pharoahe monch]Yo, it's the verbal assult weapon with words uncannyYou can fool me but I cannot fuck with rudy gullianiPress the panic button, shit it's the schizophranic, can itI can kill it from the west coast to the atlanticNowadays it seems it's hard to maintainCan't take the stress, yes god, I'm going insaneIf you can fill my veins say yesIf you can feel the pain say stressPharoahe, I possess the skills to bring it to yor chestWith lyrics and manifestation for the entire nationWith his excellency prince standing next to meAnd especially extra p on the sp12 zero zero, I stand tall and be a heroIn times of stress, the pharoahe won't fessCrush, kill, destroy, stress (repeat 16x)[large professor]Now nothing ain't deeper than having to throw a nigga in the sleeperDon't stress, and take that shit from large professCause I be on the train trying to maintainGetting lower than the whole while the record man gainAnd it make me want to sting somebody, with the shottieCause I can't relate to living less than greatSo I while I make a fat beat to eatSome of my mans from john ball high school are sleeping in the streetThat stress shit is ill, if you let it, it willHaving your ass on the staircase smoking a scrillNever that for me, nigga my name's extra pI can't afford to be stressed the fuck out in '93Or '94, cause everybody knows my solutionTo being stressed is looking at the front doorCrush, kill, destroy, stress (repeat 8x)[prince poetry]God knows I can't take this stressWorking my fingers to the bone, my middle fingers for all you rap singersNot representing your hoodI stroll through the projects giving niggas dap cause my respect's goodVerbal assassinator, sharp with the tounge, I comeOut of my pockets to fulfill a wish before another brotherAnd another one, that you're looking forMr. bigot, officer, I'm legit, now can you dig it? Hey lady, I don't want your pocketbook, my black assDon't like my ass black? I'd rather cross the street leaving a stupid lookOn your grill, spark a phil, parlay? hosey toe? in the spot, call up ? concay? Extra large profess, give the rest of the old funkSo what I left the rhyme on the dresserMy man dy-lou, he's in this, rest in peace, you're in here? reckapice? you be the daddy, God knows you're in thereSincere's the queer cause the east is representingBaby doll, prince is my name, shit's real, so listen
 

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