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   Now you wonder what's next...