Buy this album at: Roc the honey with the sweet talk. Haters wanna see me fall sprinkling that sea salt. Putting all my competition on a final-teacher. Then Highlight the death of their careers like I was street chalk. Issa-Save the rap game from the infidels, then have a few cocktails in Cuba with Fidel. My middle finger cocked north to this Bay of pigs, player please I’m Guevara on this mic- guerrilla tales. And u can and run and sell that to the press. Im Hennaed up from the fingertips to the wrist. Im Finna whet your palate with a lil metaphysics then I’ll split and leave the demo tape sizzling in your cleft. Catch me on my worst day, I’m rhyming til a hearse take your body of work and lullaby you into a dirt nap. I suggest u take these jewels and run with em-purse snatch. Cuz I’m the freshest tender on the market-call me first catch. Oh lawd.

I spit planets, sonnets made of granite, sonically I can monetize grammar into the spinach. Cuz S-a-r-o-c is DMT. The spitting image. Imma flip your brain waves from flat lines to hieroglyphics. More specific imma dig inside Samoa South Pacific. Got some FOI, some Hebrews and some Moors on my ticket. Can I kick it? Got my tribe in my favorites. I’m living for the dream rocking crowds with my baby. U catch me building with the fives out on Ralph David. Go head cop all of my albums if u tryna repay me. I’m a Indie, pendant draped on my chest bone. Mama said I work too hard, remind me send a text home. I’m from where them Zulus strap a tool next to collect phones, you go against the clique and they can make ur crew celestial. Anyone can get it with a written bar for bar, word to god u can see me prey on your squad at my next show.

That’s god hop on the channel-turn the tv up. The vibe got the whole congregation chi-Ing up. Y’all mad cuz these conscious raps is monstrous- cats been holding their feelings in the middle like a Reese cup. I’ll decimate your fragile ego in a breath. Then desecrate the memory of it’s evil with the next. I spit like- sage sticks and rose Quartz crystals I bet we clear the air on who’s the best- tho. I’m pure energy lyrically I’m electro-magnetic letters embellish my manifesto. You see My literary scrawls like engraving on a wall. I get deep Patna how’s your fucking breaststroke? Eeenie meenie miny Moe, who on my list? Supreme being in the rap arena, call me Krishna. Any knight, wanna rumble with the queen, gon be my guest, and I’ll pawn u for the crown and leave legend-Bobby Fisher.

Soldiers on the left. Flag with the crest. Hoods on the right, wild for the night. Pull up in the Lac, my peoples in the back, what’s up?


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SA-ROC: GIFT OF THE MAGI Produced by: Sol Messiah