Who can forget the brilliant concept track 'Stray Bullet' featured on Organized Konfusion's second album; ' Stress: The Extinction Agenda, released in 94'. Nas may have created his own more polished 'I Gave You The Power' concept a couple years later, however i always felt there was something decidedly more disturbing and sinister about OK's verses.... "I'm coming for you little girl"
Verse One: Pharoahe Monche Let the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanismWhich gives a response, for the automatic *bang*Clip to release projectiles in singlefile forcing me to ignite then travelthrough the barrel, headed for the lightAt the end of a tunnel, with no specific target in sightSlow the flow like H2O waterVisualize, the scene of a homicide, a slaughterNo remorse for the course I take when you pull itThe result's a stray bulletNiggaz who knew hit the ground runnin and stay downExcept for the kids who played on the playgroundCause for some little girl she'll never seemore than six years of life, trif-le-ingWhen she fell from the seesawBut umm wait, my course isn't overFled out of the other side of her head towardsa red, Range, Rover, then I ricochetFast past a brother's ass, oh damn, what that nigga say'Aww f**k it', next target's Margaret's face *bang*and I struck itNow it's a flood of blood in circumfrence to her faceand an abundance of brains all over the streetShame how we had to meet *bang*Dashin, buckin, greet by f**kin familyThey follow behind me in a orderly fashionBashin through flesh I'm wildCrashin through the doors of projects hallwaysto deflect off of the tileI'm coming for you little girlOnce inside I shatter your worldSwirl, no more dreams no hopes when I sprayYou better pray, to the Pope or the VaticanBefore I go rat-tat-a-tat againI'm mad again brother somebody's mother will be sad againbut, whose blue skies will turn greyfrom the attack, of the Mac-11, I'm a stray, bullet Verse Two: Prince Poetry Gun balls of fire, I'm travelling at higher speedsto proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splintafter splitting the chest of a Queens fiendAge of pagers shredded to pieces from the Glock 9and it's hollow tips, it releases the policesin back of the ambulanceBlood loss as I shift across your chestArrest, rupture, I mess up ya, slashershall I bust ya liver, faster, blood pours *bang*Now it's up to the master, boom, as I crash open the doorsThank me for spraying the operating roomThe body still consumes me, doc had to remove meMmm lord, why do they use me? *bang*I'm takin individual for keeps Hobbesso peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin shots for propsAnd when I hit, sh*t *bang bang bang bang*Soon you forgets-me-notCops tried to explain to his pops what I doneI flip up the hollow tipper and I'm not the oneAnd as a human I'm the surprising onePrince Po I flow the ripper, either wayyou never, ever know how I'm comingMetamorphasizing, rising in turbulenceCondensed into a bullet, pull it, now I'm making movesWith no sympathizing, uhh, so take a hit nigga, sprint *bang*Onto the scenario, I'm at a party with OA lot of honies parlay and the DJ's playin the Fudge Pudge flowFive niggaz come up in the club for a rub[Yo O peep it, oh sh*t O duck (oh shit!, oh shit!)*pop pop pop pop pop* *woman screams*]Another hit, another struckHere comes Mr. Stray BulletFive, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the rippedin your chest, then I flipNip your liver, blood flowin like a riverMoney starts to shiver then I give a delivery of burnsBruises fake shoes is your renaissanceNo response your moms is out coldFigure I'm bigger takin your heart nigga at twenty years oldStray Bullet