Prisoners of War

[pharoahe monch]

I stand here before the forces of evil with a style

The poetically god-gifted child

Bringin forth the story of a lyrical soldier

Blessed to manifest in the eyes of the beholder

Words of wisdom never abuse the lines

They increase, as I release a phrase like a uzi 9

From the larynx

Shot in repitition, words never heard before

But still the rendition of rap will enable me to attack

From dawn to dusk, for liberation

Driven I will never give in to interrogation

The rank, given to me, the pharoahe

Cause every bro flows like a crossbow

Equipped to pierce your soul with a poison-tip arrow

Any man wearing a blindfold can be misled

But wise are the ones with the eyes in the backs of the head

Here's the key to unlock the door:

Imagine a poet without poetical form

Rhymes are for sure as an attack

Cause they adapt to combat for the prisoners of war

[prince poetry]

I drop smash and causin damage equivalent

To a hy-drogen bomb, raidin villages like

A poetical soldier in vietnam, poetry

Releasin deadly gasses, bodies deteriorating

As they stalk past the fatal acid

As a rebel of rap, I stop, load the luger

As I manuever with the caution as I verbally counterattack

Striking like a mad sniper cause I'm the type of

Hyperactive viper to wipe away the enemy with no remedy

Cause I'm the epitome so don't try to get rid of me

You little itty-bitty twenty-five automatic, you're killin me

Cause I'm a glock 9 that will rock your mind

Distortin it, shorten your brainwaves

As the rhyme intertwine with the sign of the times

Don't sleep cause I creep attackin from the side

That is blind, therefore I gotta be hard to the core

And I walk, as a prisoner of war

[pharoahe monch]

Wake up to the mathematics of an erratic rap

Rejuvenator of rhyme, that sort of come automatic

Poetical medical medicine for the cerebellum

I divert em and flirt em insert em then I repel em

A breakdown, poetical shakedown

Fifty-two pick-up a stick-up so get on the floor facedown

The ammo to keep the people steppin

Breakin open the vault because I'm like a verbal assault weapon

I'm mathematical, acrobatical

Attack the wack take rap to the maximum

You're strung out you're hung out when you heard the style

That I brung out of faint air must come out my mouth

Where I stick my tongue out in the at-mos-phere

Take a good look at what's happening here

On the microphone, I'm rappin

Pickin-em-stickin-em up, breakin-em-shakin-em up, and bashin

The lyric dictator, the aviator of antonym

All beware to prepare for the guillotine

Rhymes go express, expert, extreme

Be up to par with wisdom and intellect

Detatching one's head directly from one's neck

Still I've been illing and drilling your brain

Like a villain I came in the darkness to spark the literature for sure

When I rhyme for the prisoners of war

[prince poetry]

There is strength in my men-tal-bolism, brains to spare

Upon info, knowledge, data, greater aspects

Affects my future environment

So in the event I drop science to suit ya, uproot ya

Hunt ya down

Verbally attackin from the ground up to intellectually shoot ya

Lurkin through the shadows of darkness, shots fired

The spark hits the trees, releasin lyrical ammo

While I camoflouge in the flash of my stature

Mentally cease mc's, that be surrounded I capture

And enemy lines are crushed, bumrushed

And plus your government officials are corrupted

Cause they're down with us; poetical rebels on a rampage

Of wrecked dialects, blown lyric projects

Heat is scopin you through my infrared twenty-twenty

Scope lens, steppin upon base that's when the

Organized konfusion massacre begins with a blast

Never will an intruder approach cause they will never ever last

Cause the task is total termination

Poetry and the pharoahe