The Roots - Distortion to Static lyrics
[The Roots - Distortion to Static lyrics]
Yo, I'm every MC, it's all in me
That's the way it is, the way it gotta be
Indeed as I distort, I proceed, indeed
Gettin' hotter than sacks of boom in
My room at the Ramada
For tanks in your memory banks to fill up
I provide the static a scratch to match
While you catch the vibe
Most can play high-post, but yo
That don't mean shit
Because my clique will make
A motherfucker sick
I flips, redder than pork
Comin' to New York to mix
(It's Bob Power) With the snares
And kicks to fix
Rhythmically, you got ta be, static-y
Magically, I appear
Spark a L and drink a beer
With Air Smooth, takin' niggas loot with dice
Then shoot, The Roots, poetic
Courageously kinetic
Vagabonds, versatile and various
Trust 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, enlightenin' tykes
Frightenin' like lightnin'
Fluorescent, incandescent, effervescently
I represent, Foreign Objects and Ill Elements
Very relevant
Plus intelligently managin' matter
That's makin' tracks fatter
Revolve around Saturn like rings
And brings swings, when I stings with bass
Then distort up in your face like mace
Bustin' your dreams like gats
With loaded magazines i'm on the rap scene
Repellin' fellas like a vaccine
As I, rocks from under, blunderin' I'm not
Lyrically, ya get 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
Niggas cannot front, I'm poetically exquisite
Wicked, with the visit
While you're wonderin', what is it?
Dig it, yo, my mellow, um
What up 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
Now, go get your dictionary
And your Pictionary
'Cause much affliction with my diction
Friction slips and carries
Words and herds 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 splurgin' 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 by 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 jingles and it jangles under Kangols
Nahhh, them niggas don't wanna tangle
'Cause Roots get loose
Negros get juiced like the mango
To be particular, extra-curricular
For pleasure measure, in any weather
Value more than the treasure
Baby, you're sayin' maybe
Then comin' to flex
Now you wonder what's next
That's the way it is, the way it gotta be
Indeed as I distort, I proceed, indeed
Gettin' hotter than sacks of boom in
My room at the Ramada
For tanks in your memory banks to fill up
I provide the static a scratch to match
While you catch the vibe
Most can play high-post, but yo
That don't mean shit
Because my clique will make
A motherfucker sick
I flips, redder than pork
Comin' to New York to mix
(It's Bob Power) With the snares
And kicks to fix
Rhythmically, you got ta be, static-y
Magically, I appear
Spark a L and drink a beer
With Air Smooth, takin' niggas loot with dice
Then shoot, The Roots, poetic
Courageously kinetic
Vagabonds, versatile and various
Trust 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, enlightenin' tykes
Frightenin' like lightnin'
Fluorescent, incandescent, effervescently
I represent, Foreign Objects and Ill Elements
Very relevant
Plus intelligently managin' matter
That's makin' tracks fatter
Revolve around Saturn like rings
And brings swings, when I stings with bass
Then distort up in your face like mace
Bustin' your dreams like gats
With loaded magazines i'm on the rap scene
Repellin' fellas like a vaccine
As I, rocks from under, blunderin' I'm not
Lyrically, ya get 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
Niggas cannot front, I'm poetically exquisite
Wicked, with the visit
While you're wonderin', what is it?
Dig it, yo, my mellow, um
What up 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
Now, go get your dictionary
And your Pictionary
'Cause much affliction with my diction
Friction slips and carries
Words and herds 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 splurgin' 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 by 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 jingles and it jangles under Kangols
Nahhh, them niggas don't wanna tangle
'Cause Roots get loose
Negros get juiced like the mango
To be particular, extra-curricular
For pleasure measure, in any weather
Value more than the treasure
Baby, you're sayin' maybe
Then comin' to flex
Now you wonder what's next