Stress by Organized Konfusion Lyrics
[Hook]
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
[Verse 1: Prince Po]
Pain, stress, my brain
Can’t even rest, it’s hard to maintain, the pressure
On my chest, excess frustration strikes!
Blood rushes my head when I come across roads with dead
Mics and wack promoted shows, it’s hard
But with the presence of God, I’m true to the game, so I’m back
Black, to take charge and recapture
The time, wish it could never be wack. I’m pure
I insert my lifeline into the track, the energy in me
Is a poison with no unrevealed remedy
I’m spreading like leprosy throughout the record label
‘Cause mines put me and Monch’s career in jeopardy
Can you come see me in the ghetto where it’s dark?
Bullets are real, lost peeps lurks in the heart
Lord knows it hurts, we kick the Hertz to the curb
Execute first things first and put blunted minds to work
My herd’s tight and my fans supports, so I’m a-ight for
The time being, seeing peace but taking no shorts (No shorts)
[Hook]
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
Crush, kill, stress
(album version includes a short “taxi cab” skit here)
[Verse 2: Pharoahe Monch]
You will now
Consider me the apocalyptic one. After this
Rhyme, henceforth, there is none
No more will exist when I emerge from
The mist in whence I was born into, scorned
Most of you can’t even comprehend what I am saying to you
Even in my human form the message I’m relaying
Why do you choose to mimic these wack emcees?
Why do you choose to listen to R&B?
Why must you believe that something is phat
Just because it’s played on the radio 20 times per day?
My perception of poetical injection is ejaculation
The immaculate conception
The hall-walker who stalks bodies in Central Park
Soon, emergency services’ll outline that
Body in chalk, then I begin to walk away and spit
Then when I walk away, I talk shit! Huh!
A jogger sprayed my face with mace, she didn’t
Know that I enjoyed the taste of radioactive waste
When I’m in the backseat of your mid-town
Taxi, don’t even ask me for the cash, G
The four cabs before didn’t pick me up
Now ask yourself: who the fuck’s gonna stick me up?
[Hook]
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
[Verse 1: Prince Po]
Pain, stress, my brain
Can’t even rest, it’s hard to maintain, the pressure
On my chest, excess frustration strikes!
Blood rushes my head when I come across roads with dead
Mics and wack promoted shows, it’s hard
But with the presence of God, I’m true to the game, so I’m back
Black, to take charge and recapture
The time, wish it could never be wack. I’m pure
I insert my lifeline into the track, the energy in me
Is a poison with no unrevealed remedy
I’m spreading like leprosy throughout the record label
‘Cause mines put me and Monch’s career in jeopardy
Can you come see me in the ghetto where it’s dark?
Bullets are real, lost peeps lurks in the heart
Lord knows it hurts, we kick the Hertz to the curb
Execute first things first and put blunted minds to work
My herd’s tight and my fans supports, so I’m a-ight for
The time being, seeing peace but taking no shorts (No shorts)
[Hook]
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
Crush, kill, stress
(album version includes a short “taxi cab” skit here)
[Verse 2: Pharoahe Monch]
You will now
Consider me the apocalyptic one. After this
Rhyme, henceforth, there is none
No more will exist when I emerge from
The mist in whence I was born into, scorned
Most of you can’t even comprehend what I am saying to you
Even in my human form the message I’m relaying
Why do you choose to mimic these wack emcees?
Why do you choose to listen to R&B?
Why must you believe that something is phat
Just because it’s played on the radio 20 times per day?
My perception of poetical injection is ejaculation
The immaculate conception
The hall-walker who stalks bodies in Central Park
Soon, emergency services’ll outline that
Body in chalk, then I begin to walk away and spit
Then when I walk away, I talk shit! Huh!
A jogger sprayed my face with mace, she didn’t
Know that I enjoyed the taste of radioactive waste
When I’m in the backseat of your mid-town
Taxi, don’t even ask me for the cash, G
The four cabs before didn’t pick me up
Now ask yourself: who the fuck’s gonna stick me up?
[Hook]
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
Crush, kill, destroy, stress
Crush, kill, destroy, stress