Back to the previous page

Artist: Anti-Pop Consortium f/ Pharoahe Monch
Album:  Tragic Epilouge
Song:   What Am I?
Typed by:

(Pharoahe Monch)
You blink, I think with sincrinicity split my body multiplicity shit
Fifteen places at the same time speaking the gospel
The optical illusion or obstacle for institution
Of impossible word resusitation and execution,

Electricution, emergency broadcast beacon
Reachin' expand the bandwith stand beyond the abondened sycopius
Brimstone pullin' the esophagus dragon breathing apocolypse

(Pharoahe Monch)
Spit spit out shit shit get incredible responses
From these unearthly creatures and androdginistic monsters
Haunts the every move

Pattern, exorcist, excercise no discression when pressing the boundaries
Surrond the beat like street lights on nights with fights and latteral
battle moves
To all crews, emcees FREEZE (scratching)

What am I? What am I? What am I? (x13)

The acappella block rocker shocker
Off the top off the roof fly m.c. entity

Me proceed enslave fragment images enhanced by system of our compulsions
Transrciptions transparent as captivity communicate while emcees like
thoughts of thousand grains of sand!

The super soaker then choker, poker-face
straight hate treds stay red
Dead clouds brought back to life mic. majestic
Untested, destined
To rest among the best of the System Solar
North Polar controller of the mic. M.c. The Panet Laser

The first release quick! kick back the impact
Came in crush on contact knock out your contact when in combat
Called Combaticon causing wreckage pummeling carnage carnivorus to con
Anti to Pop then apply sauce then chomp

The to the break of your neck m.c
With the impact of a wrecking ball
to the back of the head Black rocker of rap
Don't look back on my optics
Times two highscore in Galaxian Axiom
Tracks but come more then many
Collision, precision, incision within your skull case

(Pharoahe Monch)
Necks twist turn off selective words
Play double effects you triple tapes flex and nerves
Revenge of the nerds
Seen in blurrs
Only the sound of words splurred
Now you remember when men get DIS-MEM-BERED

What couldn't I say about Emcees? x2

Every heart turning insult would be looked at praise for their demise
The bastard owed me his life
Look at everyone hide their celebration by sipping tears from rain
champaigne glasses
I hope they are burried so deep
Even the worms and the maggots couldn't breathe!

What am I? What am I? What am I? (x12)