| Song | Thirteen |
| Artist | Organized Konfusion |
| Album | Stress: The Extinction Agenda |
| 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! |
| 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, bitchass and glock to spark brain cells | |
| Not to sell units, you know | |
| They say motherfucker, bitchass 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 | |
| Papapa 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 | |
| Ladida, i flip it ladi | |
| 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 askes you to use your mind | |
| Flippin it for the masses, kickin a lot of asses | |
| The monche 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! |