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    PLAY

    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 (2X)

    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*

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