The Extinction Agenda Lyrics - Organized Konfusion

Crush, kill, destroy, stress 

Crush, kill, destroy, stress 

Crush, kill, destroy, stress 

Crush, kill, destroy, stress 

Pain, stress, my brain can't even rest 

It's hard to maintain the pressure on my chest 

Excess frustration strikes 

Blood rushes my head when I come across roads 

With dead mics and wack promoted shows, it's hard 

But with the presence of God, I'm true to the game 

So I'm back black to take charge and recapture 

The time, wish it could never be wack, I'm pure 

I insert my lifeline into the track, the energy 

In me is a poison with no unrevealed remedy 

I'm spreading like leprosy throughout the record label 

'Cause mines put me and Monch's career in jeopardy 

Can you come? See me in the ghetto where it's dark 

Bullets are real, lost peeps lurks in the heart 

Lord knows it hurts, we kick the Hertz to the curb 

Execute first things first and put blunted minds to work 

My herd's tight and my fans supports 

So I'm aight, for the time being seeing peace 

But taking no shorts 

(No shorts) 

Crush, kill, destroy, stress 

Crush, kill, destroy, stress 

Crush, kill, destroy, stress 

Crush, kill, destroy, stress 

Rarrrrrgh, you will now consider me the apocalyptic one 

After this rhyme, henceforth there is none 

No more will exist when I emerge 

From the mist in whence I was born into scorned 

Most of you can't even comprehend what I am saying 

To you even in my human form the message I'm relaying 

Why do you choose to mimic these wack MC's? 

Why do you choose to listen to R&B? 

Why must you believe somethin' is fat 

Just because it's played on the radio 20 times per day? 

My perception of poetical injection is ejaculation 

The Immaculate Conception 

The hall walker who stalks bodies in Central Park 

Soon emergency services'll outline that body in chalk 

Then I begin to walk away and spit 

Then when I walk away, I talk shit 

Huh, a driver sprayed my face with mace 

She didn't know that I enjoyed the taste of radioactive waste 

When I'm in the backseat of your mid-town taxi 

Don't even ask me for the cash G 

The four cabs before didn't pick me up 

Now ask yourself who the fuck's gonna stick me up 

Crush, kill, destroy, stress 

Crush, kill, destroy, stress 

Crush, kill, destroy, stress 

Crush, kill, destroy, stress