Soundman - Organized Konfusion

Yes yes yes yes yes

Yo Mr. Soundman!

We would very much appreciate it

(yes indeed) if you add a tad bit more mids

And a little more lows to the mic (word up)

I’m on mic number one, Prince is on mic number two (yes yes yes)

A little bit more but RIGHT RIGHT RIGHT THERE, yeah

One more, c’mon, uhh (recognize)

C’mon, right yes, yes, right here, uhh, c’mon, down

Sorta similar to the way I remember to be the wordsmith

Pharoahe, God’s gift to vocabulary

My personal soliloquies be killin' me softly

Still I be packin artillery, y’all feelin' me yet?

Props don’t stop HERE nigga

I knock MC’s out of a six-sided figure

My strategies be tragedy to MC’s

Who receive certificates from rap academies

I’m terrific with wordplay (wordplay.)

Specific with verbs, say we step it up, to the next level

See if I represent God.

.

then all my competition is exclusively Lucifer

See y’all used to the niggas who would say Devil right?

(right)

But I ain’t them (nah) they ain’t me (uh-huh)

With some bullshit college-ass rappin degree

But let me show you how we do it, duh duh duh

Done with the disco fluid, duh duh

But if it ain’t LOUD enough

We tell the soundman turn that shit up up up!

C’mon, c’mon

Yo Pharoahe, hold up hold up, check it

Let me introduce myself

I’m Senor El Chocolate, creme de la creme, a la cheddy

Prince Poe, God’s gift to vo, cabulary

Very visual, every lyrical slide

Is spiritually projected, forever inside

Never to hide but to shine like, diamonds inside mines

Let that ass marinate and Poe free flows over basslines

I’m, takin' elevatin' to next

Plateaus rippin' shows with this cosmic sex

Love on CD’s and cassettes and DAT’s (now all rise)

Now who masters the Funk, when it’s time to Flex?

(Organized!)

From the Southside, spar chump MC’s

Thinkin they comp, but soon to get smoked like trees

I eat MC’s of ALL kinds, spit out the rhyme

Regurgitate their mindstate, 'cause I don’t eat swine

Set it straight, online, internet programmed to climb

You might catch me in The Grind straight bumpin' a dime

Now let me tell you how we do it (yeah yeah)

With that old disco fluid (uh-huh!)

And if it ain’t LOUD enough

Tell the soundman to turn that shit up (up) up (up) up, UP!

If it.

uh… check it

(Turn me up now. oohhhhhh ohhh yeah

Ooooooh-ooooooooh-ooooh-ohh-oooh-ooooh)

Tinted V8, buck and a half on the dash

All weather Pirellis, the exterior color is cash

Black Italian leather, Nakamichi system to blast

Full metal to the pedal when we Organize on that ass

I last, amongst the mass, gettin' the cash

But in the stash fast before the stock market crash

Splash, five quarts of straight water fortified

First place to get this partyin' on

In any club or on the corner in the box with pops

In barbershops ladies got with it in hoopties some in drop-tops

Look at love-love, fuckin with this top-notch

Boombastic, ghetto dope now, fly gymnastics of passion

With verbal toxic, rock shit (daily)

(MMMmm) The soul controller up in the cockpit

Lock shit, with my robotic optic

You ain’t fuckin' with this prophet who’s too tropic, stop it

(Heyyy, Mr. Soundman, can you boost me, juice me up?)

I’m sendin' them in YO' face!

Spinnin' them quick wit

Synonym blendin' them in wit, homonyms entered in

And by embalmin' them wit, shit, whenever I spit

No need for me to go get old hit, records to go gold wit

Yo' shit with absolutely NO innovation whatsoever

You and all your mens not clever!

Y’all need to be TOLD that shit

You ain’t bold black plans of promotional schemes and scams are so wack

Tracks are trash to me, nigga actually

Your platinum plaque should even go back to the factory

People wanna be like Michael and when

Recyclin' when the fans wanna hear FRESH MATERIAL

From imperial rap pros who ORGANIZE

Gettin' very intolerant at rap shows like lactose

In fact those niggas that act up get smacked

Backwards for bein' so anti-climac.

tic

Watch any mack get, put on his back with

Lyrical tactics utilized without practice

This is how we do it (YEAH YEAH) duh duh duh

Done with the disco fluid (UH-HUH) duh duh

But if it ain’t LOUD enough

Say if it ain’t LOUD enough

Say if it ain’t LOUD enough

We tell the soundman turn that motherfuckin' volume up!

Nigga