Текстове на песни: Organized Konfusion. Fudge Pudge.

Here we go again with the funky intro
People approach me knowin' I'm the Prince Po E T R
Y, yes, and I'm the first batter
The Pharoahe usually go first, but it don't matter
(Nah it don't matter)

Funky slices of beats like this comes once in a blue
But it's not hard for me to chew
So kick off your shoes and don't forget your socks
I wash and wash them emcees like Clorox

Skills I have, good and plenty
If you want dope lyrics, but still gimmicks gimme
Beats, equivalent to just something that I can
Flow, flow, flow, flow, float on

It's gettin' breezy so kiddies'll keep ya coat on
When I proceed to light the party
In the summer, somethin' like a Mardi Gras
Bikinis, panties, bras

Juicin' 'em and I'm suckin' the girls up like straws
Oops, upside ya dome, I don't answer the phone
When I'm home not alone on the bone
Leave your name and your number

And a brief message at the end of the tone, boop
Ooh, and I like it 'cause I'm Poetry, the psychic
Intellectual level would rather, nah, nah, I don't like that
Yo, scratch that one more time
(You can do better than that)

Rollin' lyrics off the tip of my tongue, swing
I swing, swing, I swang, swang, I swung, swung
Bringin' you the news like Kaity Chung
But I'm not a pretty oriental specimen from 'Hong Kong Fooey'

Numba one supa guy, I love the women but I don't try to see 'em
I'd rather make the money bein' on the cover of E.M.
Get emcees mad, make them flare up nostrils
I'm Poetry, the rap fanatic, I get hostile

Yeah, can I, can I get a beat?
(Hostile, hostile, hostile)
Yo, Pharoahe's up next, yo, yo Monch
Kick it, Monch

Pressure, pressure, pressure, pressure, pressure, pressure cooker
I leave the party when I mass a lot of hookers
Slip and slide, I sling the sludge
Fudge, fudge, pudge, pudge, but never hold a grudge

Up against the wall, I caught you with the drugs
The organism's on the jury, guess who's the judge
I hit the hook heavy, ready no chitter-chatter
I figure since I'm bigger, why pitter-patter

Prouncin' on particular poets who persist to portray professional punks
You're just a pussy, meow, cat when I'm deckin' you
Disrespectin' you, clever whenever I select a new dialogue
One plus one, get it together

Girls don't despair 'cause I'll be your 'Fair Weather Friend', friend
No, I don't have a Benz and no, I don't have an Infiniti
I figure the eight inches of meat, will be the remedy
When I pull up to the bumper

'Cause I'll be down to thump a girl like Heather Hunter
I tell you now you never hated
(Hated)
The triple X when it comes to sex is what I'm rated
I tell you, know that I can give good love

Yes, I'm the one you should love
(Tell us about it)
So don't try to diss 'Fudge Pudge'
'Cause it's alright with me
Kick, slick rhymes out of a mouth

Tricky in a joust, plus I'm down with Mickey Mouse
C'mon, everyone, lets flow to the rhythm of my tongue
To the rhythm of a drum, emcees wanna battle
But they can't get with the capital M O N C H on the mic

I get swifter than the rest of them, maybe even the best
Scorin' one, oh, one on a poetical test
So O.C. if you know who you are
(C)
Get on the mic become a superstar

The form I signify is cultivated, why spread it
Many, many lyrics memorized, inbedded
In my think, tank sharp as a shank knife
I strike the mic just as quick as a snake bite

Suck out the poison, yeah, go 'head, try it
Skills of an assassin', watch as I'll fly
Thorough, doesn't matter the borough, I'm swingin'
Clear to the end, keep the party people clingin'

Treatin' emcees like government cheese
Shred 'em like cheddar, cut 'em up 'cause P's
Laid out on the bed while we write to the tracks
He's so funny when it comes to the snaps

Write a hardcore rhyme, that's what the boy said
I could whip up a rhyme that could slice a boar's head
No, that's ham and we don't digest that
Organism, that's when a dog ate a rat

So fee-fi-fum everybody's 'Funky Drummin' it
When you hear the bassline, you'll be hummin' it
I'm keepin' it simple 'cause I can swing many ways
Rappers get Met, 'cause Met it pays

It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world and it's best to never wild out
Go against me and I'm quick to pull out
The driveway by the way, hey
Picked up your girl 'cause she was goin' my way

Hand on the stick, foot on the clutch
Flowin' over eighty miles per hour, I'll pull it on outta
Skid marks left on the ground like tattoos
The rubber smells badder than the doodoo on your shoes

You stink, better think wise, is what I advise
'Cause O.C. has skills to kill a whole tribe
Off, awkward, spaghetti, I'll sauce it
Lyrics flow like fluid out of a faucet, yeah

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