歌曲 | Distortion To Static |
歌手 | The Roots |
专辑 | Do You Want More?!!!??! |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Questlove | |
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 needGettin' hotter than sacks of boom, in my room at the | |
RamadaFour 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 | |
With the snares and kicks to fix | |
Rhythmatically, you got ta be, staticy | |
Magically, | |
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 | |
Fluorescent, 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, recolor 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 | |
Philadelphia fly | |
Money makin' move fakin' | |
I isn'tNiggaz 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 | |
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, | |
RootsInsult ya, mellow of culture, rhythmatic vulture | |
Approach ya, with | |
Magnetic shit that's | |
UltraI 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 |
zuo ci : Questlove | |
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 needGettin' hotter than sacks of boom, in my room at the | |
RamadaFour 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 | |
With the snares and kicks to fix | |
Rhythmatically, you got ta be, staticy | |
Magically, | |
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 | |
Fluorescent, 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, recolor 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 | |
Philadelphia fly | |
Money makin' move fakin' | |
I isn' tNiggaz 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 | |
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, | |
RootsInsult ya, mellow of culture, rhythmatic vulture | |
Approach ya, with | |
Magnetic shit that' s | |
UltraI 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 |
zuò cí : Questlove | |
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 needGettin' hotter than sacks of boom, in my room at the | |
RamadaFour 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 | |
With the snares and kicks to fix | |
Rhythmatically, you got ta be, staticy | |
Magically, | |
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 | |
Fluorescent, 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, recolor 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 | |
Philadelphia fly | |
Money makin' move fakin' | |
I isn' tNiggaz 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 | |
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, | |
RootsInsult ya, mellow of culture, rhythmatic vulture | |
Approach ya, with | |
Magnetic shit that' s | |
UltraI 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 |