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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 shit Because my click'll make a motherfucker 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 niggaz 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 Niggaz 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 shit 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 niggaz 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...
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