[Verse One: Malik B]

Yo, I'm every MC, it's all in me

That's the way it is, when ya gotta be
Indeed as I distort I proceed, I need
Gettin hotter than sacks of boom, in my room at the Ramada

Four tanks in your memory banks to fill up
I provide the static, with scratch to match, while you catch the vibe
Most can play high post, but yo that don't mean %#@!

Because my click'll make a mother$#&@er sick
I flips, redder than pork, comin to New York to mix
(It's Bob Powers) With the snares and kicks to fix

Rhythmatically, you got ta be, static-y
Magiccally I appear, spark a L and drink a beer
With air smooth, takin ^!$$%z loot with dice

then shoot The Roots, poetic, courageously kinetic
Vagabond, versatile and various, plus 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
Ridin in, like lightning

Flourescent, incandescent, evervescently
I represent, Foreign Objects and Ill Elements
Very relevant, plus intelligently managin matter

that's makin tracks fatter, revolve around
Saturn like rings and brins swings when I sings with bass
Then distort up in your face like mace

Bustin your dreams, I gasp with loaded magazines
I'm on the rap scene, re-color fellas like a vaccine
As I, rocks from under blunderin I'm not, lyrically

Ya getm, 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

^!$$%z can nah front, I'm poetically exquisite
Wicked, with the visit while you're wonderin what is it
Dig it, yo my mellow um whattup 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


[Verse Two: Malik B]


Now, go get your dictionary and your Pictionary
Cause much affliction with my diction friction slips and carries
Words and hers 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 splurge and 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 of culture, rhythmatic vulture
Approach ya, with Magnetic %#@! that's Ultra

I make MC's dangle like a bangle
Strangle from every angle, my lingo hingles and it jangles
under Kangols, nahh them ^!$$%z don't want to tangle

Cause Roots get loose, negroes get juiced like the mango
To be particular, extra-curricular, for pleasure
Measure, in any weather, value more than the treasure

Baby, you say you maybe, then come in to flex
Now you wonder what's next...