3-O-Clock
[Hook]
Three o'clock in the morning
Dirty time to be in
Port Authority Terminal
Alone in New York City
[Verse 1: Pharoahe Monch]
You are in need of deliverance from discriminative images
And 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, averbally 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 it, 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 W.A.R.?
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
[Hook]
Three o'clock in the morning
Dirty time to be in
Port Authority Terminal
Alone in New York City
[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 the stash and cash and ran away
Thought she had to mash, professin’ out of the gate
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 it feels to be implemented
No guidance, but her science refused to stay down
But wait!
Everybody knows you don’t go Greyhound, it’s time to shake
The service is the verse, but first, with time to break
Bust violently, it’s pulling in the gate
Strolling through the terminal, dude saw the pomade
Got up in the air, painted a picture looking great
Not she’s out there on the stroll, lost, pussy on a plate
With demented sickness, substituting cookies for the cake
[Hook]
Three o'clock in the morning
Dirty time to be in
Port Authority Terminal
Alone in New York City