(feat. Bahamadia)



Rock on, to the break of dawn

Freak on to the early morn

Khadafi and Sue-kwon, you got it goin on

To my man Big Shawn, you got it goin on, now, yo

You got The Roots in the house

We also got Bahamadia in the house, representin lovely

With you ears now proceed

It's flavor you wouldn't believe as we proceed



[Chorus:]



I shall... proceed... and continue... to rock the mic [x2]



[Verse One: Malik B]



Let's, kill all the small talk, and just elaborate

The Roots collaborate I see myself as rather great

How the words generate, whole crews disintergrate

when I pentrate

As if in the course flow with intensive force

You best to go and check your source about my textual course

Simplicity, it sounds complex, you might miss it

But after you critique it you can kiss it

I'm assissting fire force that leaves statistics

When identify niggaz simplify you'll feel no sympathi

My lyrics send you on a permanent excursion

I never would decide when your lifespan was submergin

My style is urban not surburban when I'm splurgin

Gosh these MC's I wash more than detergent

I can split the Red Sea but deadly

Take heed, illadelph style as I proceed



[Chorus]



[Verse Two: Bahamadia]



Bahamadia hits the melodies mellowly

Brand new, funk doobie, choosy with the tactics

when I gets Raw, like Dice, nice

with the flavor, Do You Want More?!!!??!

Of the Organix, pure

Eargasmatic, from Distortion to Statics

Automatic, systematic

I'm nasty at it

So hand me the five micraphones like they did Illmatic

One time for the mind

Rhyme be coming from an illadelph state of mind

The real is not whole or half time

all the time, and I shall proceed

I'm movin on baby, I shall proceed

To remain, on point like an infrared beam

Succeed, in chasing out the ultraviolet dreams

No Mas like Shorty, cuz it's all about me



[Chorus]



[Verse Three: Black Thought]



Black and handsome, holdin MC's for ransome

Thoughts command some, is this, a phantom?

Crews I mangle, y'all know my anthem ain't the Star Spangled

I hit you from the most bizarre angle, rectangular

visions of papes my mind conceive

Motivatin me to acheive as I must proceed

when I ride the train, traumatized to maintain

but laid back, the tracks can relax the brain

I got to deal with everything on this intelligent plain

Servin as a killer

to the pain I live a High Life like Miller

Me and the mic's mechanized

Respect recognize with mind beyond wise

Limitless when I bless the mic with speak

Dialect never weak, y'all niggaz know Tarik

From seven-fifth Snider Ave. got the flavor you need

For the ingredients indeed so to the lead I shall proceed



[Chorus: fades]