Artist: The Roots f/ Dice Raw Album: Illadelph Halflife Song: It Just Don't Stop Typed by: nelly@itis.com Hook: Dig it, this world is filled with homicides and rape All the crimes of hate just ain't the size and shape You can walk don't the block and get slumped or knocked It don't stop y'all and it just don't stop (x2) Black Thought: I leave the microphone intrigued with my practice This rebel stick your system like a cactus a boys sadness Who knows what is concealed under the mattress Ruegurs, losses and grindals when my minds in blackness Then I act this way the beast unleashed Rabbis, monks and priests always pray for peace But it's deceased now only lives the true realance Open up the mental deaths you rented through my palace My thoughts contain the plus sign plus the malice Not equating to your Wonderland so fuck Alice My style is hostile on the external But got plenty of love and warmth that's internal The sin coronal Surfaces from whispers from the lower My noun like arks and 950 years of Noah You're arch rival You burn a cross I burn the bible Because I'm liable, to do this When my actions true this But I'd rather choose to use my diction Resurrect that blond blue eyed and put him through another crucifixion Stay up in your jurisdiction (say what?) My depiction is the drama Though these eyes I've seen the trauma Homicides in the source that was phenomenal When I find out who banged Muwan in his abdominal Met with Jesus to learn to Burns not commical At times this thing ain't logical I gots to walk around with my brain on cock Cause it can't (can't) won't (won't) don't (don't) stop Hook Malik B (M-Ill-it-ant): My mentals in flame your brains will drain When I let the ink drip and then pass out a pink slip I think quick so check my methodology My stylagy is more ranty than anthropology Between your raw legs like it's gynecology You and your sorry ass style needs an apology Cause an earthquake and make you shake you need neurology These niggas kill me actin' like stars fuck they astrology Imagin' with my badge I snatch the pagent Turn your city to a smashing and grab it Now it's time to burn the maggots my message stronger than Elisha That backslap the ass like your father Why bother? Would any care for, lyrics I sling from my mic with cease your laughter Mind of a bachelor to a master What I thought that leaves you flabbergasted Ask you what's the matter bastard? These types of rhythms man you'd rather blast it You hear the beats in jeeps over the weekend Silence is golden and niggas get killed just for speakin' The only deacon is death when ya left wounded Layin' on the ground and meet your doom quick I done been through the deserts of hell with Satin sittin' waitin' Contemplatin' and trying to get me for the takin' That's why I walk around with my brain on cock Cause it can't (can't) won't (won't) don't (don't) stop Hook Black Thought: At times I feel as if could pull a kamikaze Illuminatti probably in the civic center lobby They seeds in the world student body probably Creatin' missles they got my child holdin' pistols Knowledge and understand will make a man murder Stand further fuck all the swine plus they hamburger No hallucination the lieutenant plus Illitant arean murder that's mental Credentials is I am a hell residental with fire for the presidental Officially it's havoc in the temple I terrorize the heavens bring on the renaissance With the seventh the civili the reverence reprimand The deacon keepin' 'em from speachin' Tell 'em seeks the false preacher and I step like a shadow on your way to hot concrete And ovserve my peoples in the essence every weekend We wonder what the fuck is school teachin' Intoxicating soldiers at chaotic times reachin' The dynasty is slim But they only resemble what's when we attack That split your back then we extort your speciamen I put this in your system like lesser than Then manuver mentally for men internal medicine I hold the fort down with Malik symoblic To the mind of word that's Islamic The killer force as I deposit dealin' with logic I keep my brain on cock it don't stop talking: Bad lieutenant, M-Ill-it-ant feel the fifth guerilla chant. Come through. ? Check it out. Hook