The Roots

Yeah, to all the Jim Carrey ass large co-op
KnowhatI'msayin? Large co-op, what the fuck?
To the clones, we bless the domes
Blow the vial, you know my style, large co-op
Freestyle all the way son
Dice
Verse One: M.A.R.S.
First of all let's talk about these ill capers
And fly ass frontin bitches that now caught vapors
Niggaz run up on you with guns, snatchin papers
Outlined body chalk, is how they would scrape ya
From off the pavement, I hate gettin locked up
Cause that upstate bus reminds me of the slave ships
But then the bible never saved shit
I guess that's why every juvenile is in the same predicament
You wanna slang crack, or hold tecs, and do the concept
You can't make loot, when your moms is smokin up the product
I try to tell ya, don't let these streets fuckin fail ya
The way niggaz be gettin clapped shit'll fuckin scare ya
But in the dark, we ran wild, so we killin em
Niggaz scared, can't stand still, like fuckin helium
Fake niggaz, they don't go platinum they go aluminum
Got em cloned the fuck up son, that's why we losin em
I'm lookin at this niggaz longevity
To make a big play, but then it might be a mistake
Cuz if I get sent to D.C., I'm sendin Dice to DE
With three p's, so when I get out, he can see me
For real, cuz the streets is filled with snakes and rats
The snake will be that bitch and that rat will be that cool cat
With swollen pockets we gonna take you back home
Master Allah Rule Savior, never clone
Verse Two: Black Thought
Yo, I use the mic to slap you in the face and erase your taste
Disgrace your date put your title to waste
Dominant lyrical grace, from a place called wild
Illadelph Isle Pensy, that's the residency
Consist in currency, my pockets never empty
Some cats, believe they MC but we know they all fraud
Do a show in Philly niggaz wouldn't applaud
Nobody know your record nor who you openin for
Can tell your squad's artificial while approachin the door
So you should prepare, for lyrical terror that's pure
Step up to the resevoir, of the soul proprietor style
Messiah or, the higher law down with Dice Raw
The matador, shorty conniseur
Stompin whatever you build to the floor
Similar to that of a dinosaur
I told you I'm the rap predator
You insist to imitate, what for?
Superstar niggaz is ten percent real, ninety percent invented
For a fuckin record deal
Comin with somethin veterans can't feel
I hit you like a steel anvil
Because you grafted off the next man's skill
But still I remain mellow, seein the theatrics of Othello
Run over tactics of the
C-L-O/N-E-S fess
The phoniest cats is felonious (word)
Verse Three: Dice Raw
Dice Raw the juvenile lyricist corner store terrorist
Block trooper, conniseur of fine cannabis