The Roots Album

[No lyrics]

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 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

[BlackThought]
One two
Yes, The Roots layin back, rela-xin
Coolin out with my man Malik B
we call him Sla-xon
YaknowhatI'msayin? We in effect
Mo like Al B. Sure, for your plea-sure
Aiyyo bust it
We about to flip it on some ol' laid back, mellow my man tip
We gon' set it like this
Yo check it

Bust it, La Di Da Di, who likes to party
like Slick Rick the Ruler I'm cooler than a ice brick
Got soul like those afro picks, with the black fist
And leave a crowd drippin like John the Baptist, it's
the cause of that "Oh shit!"
The skits I kick, flows like catfish
and got many emcees on the blacklist
I'm sharp as a cactus plus, quick to bust gymnastic tactics
Us, Roots is really true to that rap shit
Now holla to the scholarly, street skats that follow me
Back to the Soul Shack with packs of rap colonies
Max that, Foreign Objects is mad abstract, make Shadrach
offender wanna go like Meshach, Black
Thought the nappy cat a bookworm shoe styles like sperm
Cool as Malcolm Little with conch a la perm burn
The herb sticks like wicks, and flips when I slaps the hand
of my mellow my man, Malik B

[Malik B]
Here I goes, negroes best to know the flower
The pro-fessional, best in those skills that kills so uhh..
WHOA, slow down before you go down (sissy)
Trixie this is Agatha Christie your slain and know now
Next contender, Malik's the axe offender
Critique me so uniquely with mystique that's so deep within the
microphones I grip, psych with poems so's I slits throats
Put him in a quote, when he croaks
They sayin -- isn't it, is it the negro that did it?
Cause wreck with the tech, make you jump and say 'ribbit'
I exhibit many forms, prohibit the corny forms
(And we're in, your neighborhood) on the norms
Capture, was to, whack ya
Manu-facture, you can even ask Anita about the, rap-ture
I figured, perhaps ya, a say it SLAM
for my mellow my man

Chorus: BlackThought

The way we do it like this
That, for my mellow my man
It's like that for my mellow my man
No no we do it like that
This, for my mellow my man
It's like this for my mellow my man
No no we do it like this
That, for my mellow my man
It's like that for my mellow man
No no we do it like that
This, for my mellow my man
It's like this for my mellow my man

[BlackThought]
Yo, I got spunk, plus funk
and Jump Like Punks, to Get Beat Down
turn that heat down, I'm crazy cool
Deeper than the pool than Wilt the Stilt
damn near drowned in clowns bounce to sound
when Thoughts pound
and brown's, my complexion section Southern
my brother-in is Jex, I
sweats no sex, cause this kid gets
grits n shit, it's flex to drains that was crazed
when your heart spit up, dip dup damn
Yo I lost it but --
-- back is the Black Boogey Man
Manic mad musician, maker of noise
that's jocked, by your homeboys
I rocks my flocks of sheep, it's the slickest shepherd around
I was lost but was found, now I gets down
from Philly to the Apple I, stop and holla tunes and then hit
Up-town, Diggin Planets when they get Earthbound
I kick the groovy tunes for you and yours, when I pass the can
to my mellow my man, Malik B

[Malik B]
WHOAHHHHH, shucks, my nuc snuff ducks (uh-huh)
Abruptly I erupt, to destruct, deducts
In wax I like to smack em, stroke em as I cap em
Change my name to Saran or Reynolds then I Wrap em
Negroes know we be furrow to my borough
cause my ass is so thorough, like Levert Gerald
Too strong to be sterile
So I impregnates the greats (say what?)
Bust the Pacino's, I won't trust them
even though I lust them shapes -- females for retail prices
Twice this nice, this witch sure does her spices
I won't smirk, cause my name's not Urkel
The voice with the multiple choice, she does a circle
You wanna turn and page your eyes, and try to plagerize
but I degrade ya, slaughtered ya and slayed ya
Microphones I grip equipped to flip the hyp-ocrites
and nit-wits, with tidbit skits, them ain't *shhh*
That was a curse, but I divide it in half
Gets the airplay, no fair play, you're feelin the wrath
of Malik, aiyyo get tragic, negroes that get dramatic
Because I have the habit to smoke rabbits like a addict
So if you can not rap I will just slap YOU
If you wants to pick up on your nose be shows the chrome
and then we cap, YOU
It's too bad, dem cyan't understand de true check
for my mellow my man

Chorus: BlackThought

The way we do it like this
That, for my mellow my man
It's like that for my mellow my man
No no we do it like that
This, for my mellow my man
It's like this for my mellow my man
No no we do it like this
That, for my mellow my man
It's like that for my mellow man
No no we do it like that
This, for my mellow my man
It's like this for my mellow my man

I think it's for my mellow my man, uhh
My mellow my man, right
My mellow my man, uhh
My mellow my man, right
My mellow my man, uhh
My mellow my man, right
My mellow my man my mellow my man my mellow my man my mellow my man
For Scott Storch, my mellow my man
Leonard Hubbard on the bass, my mellow my man
B.R.O.T.H.E.R. ? on the drums, my mellow my man
Gotta end it on the one, my mellow my man

Datskat! I know you dig it when I kick it baby! (4X)

Di-bi-dis-banks, hip-flip-a-didip-didim-dow-hound
You wonder bout the sweat pon my brow, formulatin nouns
I'll get down, boogie brother rock on, right on, right on
The brown, rhymer organically grown, I've shown, while
sip-pida-didip-styles and proceed, to flow
You know I'm flyer than G.I. so yo Joe
Fuck, I run amuck, cause I'm the father of the fattest skatter
Black is intellectual, cat that is perpetually
ritually catchin wreck, don't step, I cut ya
I mix the Sector 6 and now I knowledge butter words
to prop up Afrika Bambaataa, a lotta, brother is out there
waitin on that new shit, well this is how we do kid
The levels is correct one-two, call in a blunt too
The front two, run through, good for you
Brand new styles like Kung-Fu
And rip this from the front to the back
To all my peoples where you at I know you dig it when I kick

Datskat! I know you dig it when I kick it baby! (8X)

Wadibi-dee-doo-bop-bop-bop-bop-bop
Skiggy-dang, skiggy-dang, you knows we gonna rock
and don't stop, just droppin off my bags you fags
When you define, the word behind, deserves you lags
We blast off like launchers, launchin off the rockets
If you bugs, if you act like plugs, you're gettin pulled
out of sockets, the extra-curricular particularly this
miraculous in lyrics they be callin me Jesus
Please just call me Maliq I'm not a prophet
Pass me a topic and I'll drop it
Because it gets, hairier, never marry or flurries a throne
To hell with a boy upon the microphone
will be convenient, I'm never bein lenient
on them folk who gonna slow-up cause they a dope
But a-bi-dee-doo-bop-bop-bop-bop-bop
We makin touchdowns, cause we knockin butts down, so

Datskat! I know you dig it when I kick it baby! (8X)

[No lyrics]

Black Thought:
Well I'm a fly Philly nigga, finger on the trigga
MCs repent from sins, God's comin again
Original (what?), visionary individual
Original (what?), visionary individual
I proceed, as I give ya whatcha need
Like I'm a medical doctor, watch the damage
I inflict properly, ain't nobody risin on top of me
I be droppin more plot in my mic monopoly
Got to be, got to be reality, Stevie Wonder see
Black Thought be me, I groove ba-by
Or I clue they say baby
Would you get with this? Not even maybe
It's the mister gravy and shit
To explain what's goin on inside my brain
You're scared, jealous
No analyst can maintain or handle this...
Mind train, yo
I'm on some old snap a rapper neck shit
You know what I'm sayin?
So niggaz best get out of my path
Kid, I'm on point like a gat
The basket case, I waste MCs with rapture taste
Facing these leads to cats diminished
They be pullin the mic out that ass when I get finished
Administrative assistant I'm not, yo, I'm the principal
Nigga, takin shots, like I'm invincible
Figure me to be hardcore, my input cuts your jaw
For real, for short, do you want more?!!!??!

Yo, Philly in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
South Philly in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
West Philly in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
North Philly in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
G-Town in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
Mount Airy in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
Oaklane in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
Lodan in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
Jersey in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
Uptown in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
Brooklyn in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
Manhattan in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
The Boogie Down in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
L.I. in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
Come on, Queens in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
DC in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
West Coast in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
Down South in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
London in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
Germany in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
Tokyo in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
Africa in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
Puerto Rico in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
Yeah, we in the house y'all (Do you want more?)
Come on

(*beatbox scratch* You want more, an encore)(until end)