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*