Distortion To Static Lyrics - Do You Want More?!!!??! - The Roots

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 

Two: Malik B 

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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 jingles 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... 

Photos