Distortion to Static (At Ease Mix)The Roots

[Intro]
(Laughing)

[Verse 1: Black Thought]
Yo, I'm every MC, it's all in me
For all eternity I'm representin' Southern Philly
Indeed as I distort, I proceed, and lead
Getting hotter than sacks of boom in my smoke-filled room
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
Who flips kid? The Black Thought, jiffily que this in the mix
Master of the money, getting lyrics and shit
Rhythmically, you got to 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
Vagabond, 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 and lighten your tights
Frightening, 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 sings with bass
Then distort up in your face like ugh
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 can not front, I'm poetically exquisite
Wicked, with the visit while you're wonderin', what is it?
Now 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

[Interlude]
(Laughing)

[Verse Two: 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
Nahh them niggas don't want to 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]
(Laughing)