No Hometro/Proceed 2 - The Roots, Roy Ayers

Check it, check it, Black Thought, is in the house

And uhh, Malik B, is in the house

We’re groovin' out, we’re groovin' out, yes, in the house

Roy Ayers, is in the house

Yo, my man, my mellow my man, yo, my man, yo, my man

Just get on the mic with your master plan

I can make you dance, I can make you shout

The scripts in the scroll turn the whole party out

Inject my lyrics in a sec with dialect

Why accept?

Because it’s from the highest eye and depth

Rap extraordinaire, share me never, ever

See-through because I be true, Malik’s together

Intox' your cells 'til your brain vein swells

Niggas’ll claim terror when they’re never parallel

Once I have a hunch to diss MC’s that front

I just crunch the whole bunch in one big munch

I always stand firm, under any term

My actions never squirm 'cause my tracks is perm'

I have a tendency to defend this MC

My residency is simply in Pensy

I makes it vivid, on different continents of Earth I pivot

It seems extreme and exquisite, but ask it, is it?

My style is like a cat from a '70s flick

Talkin' jive as he strut with his afro pick

Or a predator just before he stalks his prey

When I talk this way, I do dismay

See, you’re puzzled, now, how I think you’re tryin' to juggle

My mind is like a 9M double, now there’s trouble

The Roots bring you styles and all types of creed

I sign off but I shall proceed

I shall proceed and continue to rock the mic

Yo, we could get fly, we could get fly

We could get fly, that’s the anthem of my… crew

Not to glorify, but it’s sorta high

Troubles of the world bring tears to my eye, wonder why?

My man can’t vaccinate, y’all know the fate

Similar to the way I’m a disease on tape

Within a world of hate, many mics I rape

To escape Metropolis in such a violent state

I spill words over pages, styles over phrases

From the world’s different stages, for crowds of different ages

Though not a nova, you Witness like Jehovah

How niggas beg for lyrical plague to pass 'em over

Right?

Right, niggas is like stick up kids doin' bids

You got caught, enter the Black Thought

I interface with bass when I communicate

Crowds I elevate to another mind-state of rap thinkin'

See, musically the Black thinkin' izm, therefore

I give 'em what I’m givin', therefore

I give 'em what I’m givin', that’s the hardcore

The Roots’ll keep it real for sure, and I shall proceed

Rockin' on the microphone, I do this well

The Roots, The Roots!