Roots - Distortion To Static lyrics

rate me

Verse One: Malik B<br />

<br />

Yo, I'm every MC, it's all in me<br />

That's the way it is, when ya gotta be<br />

Indeed as I distort I proceed, I need<br />

Gettin hotter than sacks of boom, in my room at the Ramada<br />

Four tanks in your memory banks to fill up<br />

I provide the static, with scratch to match, while you catch the vibe<br />

Most can play high post, but yo that don't mean shit<br />

Because my click'll make a motherfucker sick<br />

I flips, redder than pork, comin to New York to mix<br />

[It's Bob Powers] With the snares and kicks to fix<br />

Rhythmatically, you got ta be, static-y<br />

Magiccally I appear, spark a L and drink a beer<br />

With air smooth, takin niggaz loot with dice<br />

Then shoot The Roots, poetic, courageously kinetic<br />

Vagabond, versatile and various, plus rap styles<br />

Of mine are blunt, pain is in the mind, so I'm fine and five<br />

Foot seven, inches in height<br />

My mission to strike mics and lighten your tights<br />

Ridin in, like lightning<br />

Flourescent, incandescent, evervescently<br />

I represent, Foreign Objects and I'll Elements<br />

Very relevant, plus intelligently managin matter<br />

That's makin tracks fatter, revolve around<br />

Saturn like rings and brins swings when I sings with bass<br />

Then distort up in your face like mace<br />

Bustin your dreams, I gasp with loaded magazines<br />

I'm on the rap scene, re-color fellas like a vaccine<br />

As I, rocks from under blunderin I'm not, lyrically<br />

Ya getm, shot, get caught so distort with thought, for real<br />

It's the illest out the Phi, short for Philidelph-iada-fly<br />

Money makin move fakin I isn't<br />

Niggaz can nah front, I'm poetically exquisite<br />

Wicked, with the visit while you're wonderin what is it<br />

Dig it, yo my mellow um whattup for the night<br />

[Malik B, get on the mic, get on the mic]<br />

Like that y'all, and yo I'm flowin, my part of the song<br />

It's goin, it's goin, it's gone<br />

<br />

Verse Two: Malik B<br />

<br />

Now, go get your dictionary and your Pictionary<br />

Cause much affliction with my diction friction slips and carries<br />

Words and hers like some cattle in the steeple<br />

People, there's no equal, or no sequel<br />

SO policies, of equalities, get abolished<br />

Demolished, distortion of the static's gettin polished<br />

Urges of splurge and words will just be merged<br />

Together, damn it's quite clever, however<br />

You never, can sound alike, lyrics don't be poundin like<br />

These, troops, who be's, Roots<br />

Insult ya, mellow of culture, rhythmatic vulture<br />

Approach ya, with Magnetic shit that's Ultra<br />

I make MC's dangle like a bangle<br />

Strangle from every angle, my lingo hingles and it jangles<br />

Under Kangols, nahh them niggaz don't want to tangle<br />

Cause Roots get loose, negroes get juiced like the mango<br />

To be particular, extra-curricular, for pleasure<br />

Measure, in any weather, value more than the treasure<br />

Baby, you say you maybe, then come in to flex<br />

Now you wonder what's next...