Bring It On Organized Konfusion
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Bring It On" by Organized Konfusion. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Hook: The Ill Rahlos]
Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!
Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!
Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!
Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!
[Verse 1: Pharoahe Monch]
Monch, uh!
I even be getting more graphic than a Neo Geo thirty-two-bit
Computer chip be slipped between my lips, and then I’ll spit!
Spit it out, spit it out, go ahead, spit it out, that itty-bitty style you upchuck
Better believe I butt-fuck emcees from the rear, it appears you’re stuck-up!
It’s my terminology that strike the mind and rips this beat apart
You know the many styles I choose will bruise crews from the start
I flow, awkwardly—that’s awkwardly I flow that’s to the rhythm
Incisions are made into the brain, and then I begin to give ‘em a lobotomy
Follow me, I’m shaping your brain like pottery all over the track
Gimme the P-H, gimme the A-R, gimme the O-A, gimme the H-E, Pharoahe!
Crazy poison-tip arrows are hitting you from all directions
You cannot dodge or manage to dislodge them from the point at which they are connecting
I am se-se-selecting a ne-ne-ne-ne-new style-style fo-fo-for
Pile-piles of emcees who try to get bu-bu-buck-buckwild
F-f-f-fuck that!
When I’m in a renovative state of mind, I’m innovative
Never been afraid of rocking a microphone, I’m prone to be eliminating
Cling when I sing a song of sixpence, if it makes sense, then sing along
Cling along to my nuts if you got guts then bring it on
Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!
Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!
Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!
Bring it on, motherfucker, bring it on!
[Verse 1: Pharoahe Monch]
Monch, uh!
I even be getting more graphic than a Neo Geo thirty-two-bit
Computer chip be slipped between my lips, and then I’ll spit!
Spit it out, spit it out, go ahead, spit it out, that itty-bitty style you upchuck
Better believe I butt-fuck emcees from the rear, it appears you’re stuck-up!
It’s my terminology that strike the mind and rips this beat apart
You know the many styles I choose will bruise crews from the start
I flow, awkwardly—that’s awkwardly I flow that’s to the rhythm
Incisions are made into the brain, and then I begin to give ‘em a lobotomy
Follow me, I’m shaping your brain like pottery all over the track
Gimme the P-H, gimme the A-R, gimme the O-A, gimme the H-E, Pharoahe!
Crazy poison-tip arrows are hitting you from all directions
You cannot dodge or manage to dislodge them from the point at which they are connecting
I am se-se-selecting a ne-ne-ne-ne-new style-style fo-fo-for
Pile-piles of emcees who try to get bu-bu-buck-buckwild
F-f-f-fuck that!
When I’m in a renovative state of mind, I’m innovative
Never been afraid of rocking a microphone, I’m prone to be eliminating
Cling when I sing a song of sixpence, if it makes sense, then sing along
Cling along to my nuts if you got guts then bring it on
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