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The RootsThe Roots 

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The Roots

The Roots are an American Grammy Award-winning hip hop/neo soul band formed in 1987 by Tariq "Black Thought" Trotter and Ahmir "Questlove" Thompson in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. They are known for a jazzy, eclectic approach to hip hop which includes live instrumentals.Malik B., Leonard "Hub" Hubbard, and Josh Abrams were added to the band, originally called The Square Roots. more »

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Hello?
Yo, who this?
Yo, this-
Yo, what up, man?
Yo, what's up, dude? Who this?
This is the Black Thought
Oh, what's up, G?
What's good? Yo 
What? 
We down at the studio, yo
Word?
And we got a jawn
Yo, she live?
Yeah, she vibe
What's up wit' her?
Jawn, I used to talk to, some jawn I used to knock off
Word, how she be swingin'?
She swingin' like that you know
Oh, word?
I called a couple other heads and shit, you know
Ah, who else, who else wit' it?
(Haha)
I mean, she wit' it like that?
Yeah, you know
Ain't no bullshit?
You get the whole Reservoir Dogs squad and shit, it gon' be AD
Oh, aight, word
Come on down, it's on AD
Ayo it, it's, it's just her?
Yeah, it's just her
Oh damn, what's up with some more jawns?
It's just her and some weed, you know what I'm sayin'? F*ck some more jawns
F*ck it, aight bet, you know what's up, for real for real
Yeah, so come through
Aight, what time, yo?
Um, like now? 
Yeah, come through now
Peace
Peace

I the voyeur, peer, as she begins her, ritual 
Paying sexual ties for few and untrue 
Words of admiration, translation 
Sucker ass, lines, of trash 
Spewing from First One's unskilled lips 
That beg for pussy tricks that make his dick go quickly limp 
She pimps her innocence as Second One demands entrance 
Through the back door 
"Bend over bitch, you know this is what you were born for 
To dig those soft and lotioned knees into the floor 
And take it in, that sweetly spread ass like a real pro whore" 
Her subsequent screams seemed to praise 
Sent messages of pleasure and pain to his f*ck tainted brain 
But her screams masked laughs at his dumb ass 
As he quicker comes, then Third and Fourth One just as dumb 
Invite themselves to join in 
Third One wants to hit the skins old-fashioned style 
While Fourth One says
"Don't she got some DSL's, make a nigga joint just swell
To think? I want to sink my inches, into that bitch's
Berry-framed mouth" 
So one goes North, the other South 
To sanctified places where in-house spirits 
Will later wash away all traces, of their ill-spoken words 
And complacent faces 
And then, like their Minutemen, predecessors 
Lude, aggrandized sexual endeavors, end up rough 
'Cause neither one of them could keep that weak shit up 
Corrupt, Fifth One steps to her 
Hip-hop clothes just to, think he gonna impress her 
"Hey Slim, I heard you was a spinna, sit on up 
Top this thing, black dick, and work it like a winner" 
With the quickness he got his pseudo-thickness all up in her 
But suddenly he, stops mid thrust 

Seems she nameless to 'cause, got his stuff in a death cunt clutch 
He fast falls from the force of her tight pussy punch 
Just like the rest of that sorry ass bunch 
Now here comes Six ready to add his inactive shit to the mix 
Talkin' smack at that 
Saying, "Girl, I'ma wax that ass, and stick that slit so hard 
You gonna be calling me God" 
So he proceeds to poke and prod 
With clumsy finger and wack-sex slinger 
"Condoms make me last longer," wrong, 'cause her 
Motions of snatch, however detached from the situation 
Cause his pre, pre, pre-ejaculation 
It seems she just wastin' 
Good pussy and time on dudes like Number Seven 
Who ain't learned their lesson 
He wants to enter the flesh divine 
By dropping a kind of semi-sweet line 
"Your honey hole so fine and mile deep I'm gonna leap 
Into you like an ocean do you right and make your head spin" 
So he jumped in and then, he drowned 
Got lost and found in her Tart Canal 
Slave to the waves, made him cum for days 
Eighth and Last One turn arise 
Plies her with familiar lies 
Even more familiar still, 'cause 
Him she used to love 
But he never could quite see above, her mound 
A pound of flesh is all she was, no name, no face, or even voice 
So poised, she rises, Phoenix from the flame 
Finally bored with their feeble f*ck games 
She smooth reaches behind her and takes straight aim 
At eight shriveled up cocks with a fully loaded Glock 
Parts lips, not expressly made for milking dicks 
And then, she speaks 

"Your shrieks of horror bring me bliss, I must admit 
The thought that I could shred your tips with eight quick flips 
Excites me, see y'all f*ck with the pussy 
But I f*ck with your minds 
Lack of soul and respect is the crime 
This, was a set up, now tell me what, what's my name?"

Who are you?
Eh, brother, damn you!
Eh, your Kung-fu is pretty good
Eh, all, I wanted was some rice cakes

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