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)