The Roots — Distortion to Static Freestyle Mix

[Verse 1: Black Thought] Ayo, I'm just a lyricist, marijuana [?] mist My persona is bliss, the most pure connoisseur of literature That beast on the mic, like a dinosaur Makin' y'all want more as we enter the encore Kid, I'm every MC, it's all in me For all eternity, I'm representin' southern Philly Indeed as I distort, I proceed and make MC's bleed Fake MC's need to take heed The essence of my presence is the seed Kid, I got styles you wouldn't believe Apex my rap league The Roots, poetic and you're pathetic I'm laughin' at MC's, paragraphs, illiterates can't read Or can't seem to conceive, or construct a product that don't suck But record companies do not give a FUCK That's why forever after you will hear the laughter As I flip the rap chapter, you'll be on your back after It's the master microphone magician Do work that make the people listen Thoughts of mine glisten as your rhyme's missin' Hold tight, let's do this right 'Cause I can see we got a lot of MC's that need insight tonight It's like... "Ayo I'm every MC, it's all in me" *vocally scratched by Rahzel* [Verse 2: Malik B] Now, if your vision's still blurry, I'mma underline the turns Flip the page, synonyms, your minimum wage So [?] pass it, Black Thought, my support, so niggas blast it In sections, no questions get asked It's, still no sequel, equality means equal But, see, equality is we I enter your dimension with my tension 'Cause I rhyme in such a non-tense, niggas will mind this Illadelphiatic My culture might approach ya when I distort the static If it's drama, let's have it Broke, you're sellin' coke, then you know my styles will grab it Then drive off in traffic, with the paper mathematics But back to the topic, The Roots droppin' shit upon your optics Quite clever, like the right weather Every (every) body (body) it's not like the Hills of Beverly These creeps you niggas never see Get the picture? Here's a mixture of a medley Peace to the players on Smedely Baby, they say weak threats and you wonder what's next "Ayo I'm every MC, it's all in me" *vocally manipulated by Rahzel* [Verse 3: Dice Raw] One time for ya mind, when I exact The lyrical styles of a contact like karate I'm drivin' down the streets in a Maserati, pimpin' your hottie I'm livin' snotty, rhymes are cold like John Gotti An ill brother, want to test me, kid? I'm an ill nigga Wear only Tommy Illfiger, so go figure I'm a bad brother, word to mother You can never touch me with lyrics that's sloppy I'm like a prophet and you can't stop me A prophecy, my proper synonyms synthesized by the D-I-C-E R-A-W, who the fuck are you? Any other way, I roast your ass at a barbecue Spit, get off my dick or you will get split from your toes to ya wig Aww shit, here comes Dice Raw The kid who never took a bad fall On "The Lesson," rappin' is my profession You can never censor me out with parental discretion Lyrically I get toxic with rappers My nuclear weapon a missile, keep it over my back In a holster, pimpin' the wack MC's like hoes, too I'm broke like your mom's toaster You can't fade me or degrade me, lyrically I get excellent, B You wanna reach my planet where I'm hard like granite? Packin' motherfuckers up, and freaky like Janet You could never touch me, son When I always represent and get the job done Logan Valley represent, peace to my niggas M.A.R.S I'm hittin' you over your head, makin' you see stars So back up, don't make me act up, you'll get smacked up Physically backed up and sold to grey bands in Southville Well, I mean Northville I get ill, and I kill at will! "Ayo I'm every MC, it's all in me" *Rahzel does his thing* "Dice riggedy Raw!" *scratched by the one and only Rahzel*