The Roots — Distortion to Static

[Intro] (Laughter) [Verse 1: Black Thought] Yo, I'm every MC, it's all in me That's the way it is, the way it gotta be Indeed as I distort, I proceed, indeed Gettin' hotter than sacks of boom in my room at the Ramada For tanks in your memory banks to fill up I provide the static a scratch to match, while you catch the vibe Most can play high-post, but yo, that don't mean shit Because my clique will make a motherfucker sick I flips, redder than pork, comin' to New York to mix (It's Bob Power) With the snares and kicks to fix Rhythmically, you got-ta be, static-y Magically, I appear, spark a L and drink a beer With Air Smooth, takin' niggas loot with dice Then shoot, The Roots, poetic, courageously kinetic Vagabonds, versatile and various Trust rap styles of mine are blunt, pain is in the mind So I'm fine and five-foot seven, inches in height My mission to strike mics, enlightenin' tykes Frightenin' like lightnin' Fluorescent, incandescent, effervescently I represent, Foreign Objects and Ill Elements Very relevant, plus intelligently managin' matter That's makin' tracks fatter Revolve around Saturn like rings And brings swings, when I stings with bass Then distort up in your face like mace Bustin' your dreams like gats with loaded magazines I'm on the rap scene, repellin' fellas like a vaccine As I, rocks from under, blunderin' I'm not Lyrically, ya get shot, get caught, so distort with Thought, for real It's the illest out the Phi, short for Philidelph-iada-fly Money makin', move fakin', I isn't Niggas cannot front, I'm poetically exquisite Wicked, with the visit while you're wonderin', what is it? Dig it, yo, my mellow, um, what up for the night? Malik B., get on the mic, get on the mic like that, y'all And yo, I'm flowin', my part of the song It's goin', it's goin', it's gone [Hook] (Laughter) [Verse 2: Malik B] Now, go get your dictionary and your Pictionary 'Cause much affliction with my diction friction slips and carries Words and herds like some cattle in the steeple People, there's no equal, or no sequel So policies of equalities get abolished Demolished, distortion of the static's gettin' polished Urges of splurgin' words will just be merged together Damn, it's quite clever, however You never can sound alike, lyrics don't be poundin' like These, troops, who be's, Roots Insult ya, mellow by culture, rhythmatic vulture Approach ya with Magnetic shit that's Ultra I make MC's dangle like a bangle, strangle from every angle My lingo jingles and it jangles under Kangols Nahhh, them niggas don't wanna tangle 'Cause Roots get loose, negros get juiced like the mango To be particular, extra-curricular, for pleasure Measure, in any weather, value more than the treasure Baby, you're sayin' maybe, then comin' to flex Now you wonder what's next [Outro] (Laughter)