[Chorus: sample, (Prince Po), Pharoahe Monch]
3 o'clock in the morning (Ha!)
That ain't a time to be in (C'mon)
The Port Authority terminal (It's not a game) (It's not a game!)
Alone in New York City
3 o'clock in the morning (You have no idea!)
That ain't a time to be in (What you gon' get into)
The Port Authority terminal (Organized...)
(You are about to be put to a test...)
(Organized...!) (Prince Po!)
(Organized...!!) (Pharoahe! Let's go!)
[Verse 1: Pharoahe Monch]
You are in need of deliverance from discriminative images
An unusual amount of musical carcinogens
Here's an adrenaline boost with Timberland boot sentiments
I vegetate in vaginal canals (No venison)
That is V for victory of verbally indicative of why I haven’t been inundated
Shit, I demonstrated before, that I see the beat as a clitoris
And my tongue as the stimulation that’s vibrating from slow to vigorous
It moves with the finesse and the smoov-ness
Even inside the grooves of a record
Check itttt... {*record slows*}
Check it again, and
Check the metaphors, make sure they're makin' sense, and then
TwitPic it, like courtside Knicks tickets
Gifted with algorithms, terrific with quantum physics
Merciless with the words, your verses are quite horrific
And poor, morally, I never support 'em
Caught ‘em in the Port Authority off guard and fought 'em orally
Renegade 13, who want WAR?
At three o’ clock in the mornin’
My spawn escaping the grips of Satan
My supremacy is Bourne, my identity is Jason
Which you are now currently hearing, I recite it in verbatim
No ultimatum, played 'em, laid 'em out on the curb
Made 'em wait before I slayed 'em, when I served ‘em with the verbs at–
[Chorus: sample, (Prince Po), Pharoahe Monch]
3 o'clock in the morning (Okay... you already know... ok)
That ain't a time to be in
The Port Authority terminal (Yeah... Prince Po, eyes low!)
Alone in New York City (Pharoahe Monch) (Prince Po!)
3 o'clock in the morning (I'm trying to tell you!)
(You really have no idea!)
That ain't a time to be in (Organized...)
(I'm trying to tell you something...)
The Port Authority terminal (Shit gets really crooked in this muhfucka!)
Alone in New York City (Organized... Organized... Organized...!)
[Verse 2: Prince Po]
Clever and pretty young girl, caught up in the zone
Trapped in the jaws of poverty, drug abuse in the home
Three BFFs already pregnant, her every move is alone
Seventeen and battered with thoughts of getting to put two in the dome
Stressed and ready to just end it, suspended
In disgrace, hate to descend her, her faith heavily contended
Bend it over backwards, rend it, lower it to, even to extend it, fam
Like a ninja on a binge for vengeance – man!
Grabbed her stash of cash and ran away
Thought she had to mash, move fast, you not lookin' great
Two and a half days later, she’ll be in the land of hate
The Big City is full of dreams, but you gon’ learn today
Jumped on the bus, cap low, yo, she blended quickly
Ended by a vacation, a parking lot attendant
Waving a Mets pendant, soul crying, lying like a remnant
So tiring, so inspiring, freed to be implemented
No guidance, but her science refused to stay down
But wait!
Everybody knows you don’t go Greyhound, when time to shake
The service is the verse for first, when time to break
Bust violently, it’s pulling in the gate
Strolling through the terminal, dudes sized up her make
Got up in the ear, painted the picture, lookin' great
Not she’s out there on the stroll, lost, pussy on the plate
With demented sickness, substituting cookies for the cake
[Scratch Break: DJ Linx]
"One time...!" "Pharoahe fuckin' Monch!"
"Two times...!" "It's me! Prince Po!"
"Organized Konfusion is back!"
"Here we go again, with the funky intro"
"Marco Polo!" "Marco Polo"
"Rollin' with the most superior" "emcees"
"Port Authority" "Another M.P. production"
"Sing along with me if ya'll know these songs..."
[Outro: sample]
3 o'clock in the morning
That ain't a time to be in
The Port Authority terminal
Alone in New York City
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