Soliloquies of Chaos: Stray Bullet by Organized Konfusion

You Must Learn is proud to present Soliloquies of Chaos, a new series by Jonathan Tanners.

Soliloquies of Chaos takes a look at some of my favorite verses of all time and my reasons for loving them. Pretty simple. Enjoy!


Pharoahe Monch has long been one of my favorite rappers. His verse on “Stray Bullet” (from his old group Organized Konfusion’s second LP, Stress: The Extinction Agenda) exemplifies Monch’s best traits. Temporal shifts, internal rhymes, off beat/on beat rhyming, the use of poetic devices (alliteration, in particular) and the hypnotic rhythmic force of his vocals make this one of the most vibrant performances of Monch’s career and among my favorite verses in Hip Hop, period. And I haven’t even mentioned the remarkable imagery and cinematic qualities of this verse, which details the path of a bullet wreaking havoc after exiting the chamber of a gun.

Check out “Stray Bullet” and Monch’s lyrics after the break.


Let the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism
Which gives a response, for the automatic *bang*
Clip to release projectiles in single
File forcing me to ignite then travel
Through the barrel, headed for the light
At the end of a tunnel, with no specific target in sight
Slow the flow like h2o water
Visualize, the scene of a homicide, a slaughter
No remorse for the course I take when you pull it
The result’s a stray bullet
Niggaz who knew hit the ground runnin and stay down
Except for the kids who played on the playground
Cause for some little girl she’ll never see
More than six years of life, trifle-ing
When she fell from the seesaw
But umm wait, my course isn’t over
Fled out of the other side of her head towards
A red, range, rover, then I ricochet
Fast past a brother’s ass, oh damn, what that nigga say
Aww fuck it, next target’s margaret’s face *bang*
And I struck it
Now it’s a flood of blood in circumfrence to her face
And an abundance of brains all over the street
Shame how we had to meet *bang*
Dashin, buckin, greet by fuckin family
They follow behind me in a orderly fashion
Bashin through flesh I’m wild
Crashin through the doors of projects hallways
To deflect off of the tile
I’m coming for you little girl
Once inside I shatter your world
Swirl, no more dreams no hopes when I spray
You better pray, to the pope or the vatican
Before I go rat-tat-a-tat again
I’m mad again brother somebody’s mother will be sad again
But, whose blue skies will turn grey
From the attack, of the mac-11, I’m a stray, bullet

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