I be the Prince, mastermind of lyrical bomb threats green beret just to take it to the next lets, observe this worldwide, what's the status? lies alibis and racism is bustin at us so I dive take cover, pull out to bust back tight fisted rap type cat with fly shit on the map One of the most illustrious emcees livin wit' ya styles hoping that it'll fit ya Sit ya down peep my intergalactic type sound with a little common sense and some soul while the punding of stress builds it's time to prove Attica Blues from the Dept, collect mine's cos I already paid my dues Uhh, emerging up from teh Organized dungeon keeping this shit tender, from New York to London plunge in mega-knowledge and dept gets swept for lunging at a ground layer, player, now Monche is bringing the drums in, uhh.
Second Verse: Pharoahe Monch
Who flips in to two dimensions turning poison dipped razors at foes, and crews who choose to NOT pay dues those niggas that act up in my scenery, cinema why when I'm a nigga that's eminent in size like tenement buildings, plus sky scrapers fly but Pharoe does not stick to fly paper I, Aeon fluctuate way beyond points of vanishing, vanishing emcees managing rhymes that are damaging space time continuums continually I collect emcees as ornaments in rememberance of those once defeated in rap tournaments.
Sample: <Pharoe, I choose to cruise through space spattering matter on these new Attica Blues tapes>