[Verse 1: Black Thought]
Ayo, I'm just a lyricist, marijuana [?] mist
My persona is bliss, the most pure connoisseur of literature
That beast on the mic, like a dinosaur
Makin' y'all want more as we enter the encore
Kid, I'm every MC, it's all in me
For all eternity, I'm representin' southern Philly
Indeed as I distort, I proceed and make MC's bleed
Fake MC's need to take heed
The essence of my presence is the seed
Kid, I got styles you wouldn't believe
Apex my rap league
The Roots, poetic and you're pathetic
I'm laughin' at MC's, paragraphs, illiterates can't read
Or can't seem to conceive, or construct a product that don't suck
But record companies do not give a FUCK
That's why forever after you will hear the laughter
As I flip the rap chapter, you'll be on your back after
It's the master microphone magician
Do work that make the people listen
Thoughts of mine glisten as your rhyme's missin'
Hold tight, let's do this right
'Cause I can see we got a lot of MC's that need insight tonight
It's like...

"Ayo I'm every MC, it's all in me" *vocally scratched by Rahzel*
[Verse 2: Malik B]
Now, if your vision's still blurry, I'mma underline the turns
Flip the page, synonyms, your minimum wage
So [?] pass it, Black Thought, my support, so n***as blast it
In sections, no questions get asked
It's, still no sequel, equality means equal
But, see, equality is we
I enter your dimension with my tension
'Cause I rhyme in such a non-tense, n***as will mind this
Illadelphiatic
My culture might approach ya when I distort the static
If it's drama, let's have it
Broke, you're sellin' coke, then you know my styles will grab it
Then drive off in traffic, with the paper mathematics
But back to the topic, The Roots droppin' shit upon your optics
Quite clever, like the right weather
Every (every) body (body) it's not like the Hills of Beverly
These creeps you n***as never see
Get the picture? Here's a mixture of a medley
Peace to the players on Smedely
Baby, they say weak threats and you wonder what's next

"Ayo I'm every MC, it's all in me" *vocally manipulated by Rahzel*

[Verse 3: Dice Raw]
One time for ya mind, when I exact
The lyrical styles of a contact like karate
I'm drivin' down the streets in a Maserati, pimpin' your hottie
I'm livin' snotty, rhymes are cold like John Gotti
An ill brother, want to test me, kid? I'm an ill n***a
Wear only Tommy Illfiger, so go figure
I'm a bad brother, word to mother
You can never touch me with lyrics that's sloppy
I'm like a prophet and you can't stop me
A prophecy, my proper synonyms synthesized by the
D-I-C-E R-A-W, who the fuck are you?
Any other way, I roast your ass at a barbecue
Spit, get off my dick or you will get split from your toes to ya wig
Aww shit, here comes Dice Raw
The kid who never took a bad fall
On "The Lesson," rappin' is my profession
You can never censor me out with parental discretion
Lyrically I get toxic with rappers
My nuclear weapon a missile, keep it over my back
In a holster, pimpin' the wack MC's like hoes, too
I'm broke like your mom's toaster
You can't fade me or degrade me, lyrically I get excellent, B
You wanna reach my planet where I'm hard like granite?
Packin' motherfuckers up, and freaky like Janet
You could never touch me, son
When I always represent and get the job done
Logan Valley represent, peace to my n***as M.A.R.S
I'm hittin' you over your head, makin' you see stars
So back up, don't make me act up, you'll get smacked up
Physically backed up and sold to grey bands in Southville
Well, I mean Northville
I get ill, and I kill at will!
"Ayo I'm every MC, it's all in me" *Rahzel does his thing*

"Dice riggedy Raw!" *scratched by the one and only Rahzel*