Th1rt3eN & Pharoahe Monch - 666 (Three Six Word Stories) Lyrics

Eureka! Franklin, D, Roosevelt, Frank, Lynn, Collins, Ferguson, Rick, James, Brown, Ferguson, son?
Come on son, 13, I'm on one, 2 3 4 5 Jacksons in action
My eyes are stained glass look thru
You'll see my labor pains, when brain goes into contractions
Crack pipe, Wesley, snipes all over the city
Like stop signs, fall back pull out the act right
While they cat fight I rap like parking parallel with 18 wheels in snow storm, jack knife
Too black, too strong, exactly! That type
Could somebody please
Tell Father Time to kiss my ass, (pause) get it?

Then add a loss to his resume because he is no longer undefeated
13 I am the best that ever did it
When you travel back thru time you lose 24 hours for every hour
You remain in the past committed
I will complete a perfect final four bracket
Water the roses at your grave and then criticize that weak shit
You are about to say before you fix your mouth to spit it
I bet you
I am the one like Mookie! not Mookie Betts or Spike Lee in the movie
I move the crowd like I have Tourette's (syndrome) in the movies
"I hate people! [?] this section will be chop and reversed
(Slut, whore, fuck it, I voted for Trump)
Pump shot gun bomb, fire! everybody Run
DMC, Houdini with my treacherous 3 stripe Adidas fat gold chain necklace

Master of the guillotine, put their heads on a chopping block
Lucifer killing machine ex-e-cu-tioner
Get em and then umma put em in the middle of a firing squad load n lock pop pop pop
Watch me water board em, peel their nails back torture them
Cigarettes on the eyelids scorching them to the pupil to iris to the Retina viruses
Silencing them like they're silence us except
I'm more violent fuck em
I mute their music when they're unplugged
Throwing up middle finger to the future of these young thugs
The game of thrones
Guess I'm going back to hell again cracked skeleton bones
Spawn black melanin the attitude free radical
Islam rap cellophane around the mouths these boys I keep telling em

They ain't trying to hear me tho
But word get around in the hood like venereal
Merry go's aerial views drug dealer burials crack head flat screen tvs and cheap stereos
Swing, go ahead take a swing, you a thug you looking like you wanna swing on me
But hesitant cause you don't know if got the thing on me
And by thing I mean 29 books of rhymes words are the bullets
Pages are the clips that hold unlimited ammunition
And I just committed crime
The scenery is not fictitious clips
Or quick depictions of cops taking pics of ice picks sticking out of the victims
But a Detective taking notes, on a deceased Post, Kellogg's, General Mills
Quaker Oats and in the bathroom scripted with love is he got nearer
3 six word stories written with blood on the mirror




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