Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song I Come In Peace, artist - SA-ROC.
Date of issue: 06.10.2016
Song language: English
I Come In Peace |
I don’t even know where to start, |
probably cuz I’m playing such a huge |
part in terminating rap professionals. |
One aggressive stanza from Roc, |
have em somberly sauntering out the studio en masse-rap processional. |
The lyrical Messiah from the district of Columbiana, |
where fast talkers prey upon the meek with that arm and hammer. |
I’m giving you a peek of your future, |
this is sonogrammar, |
annihilating any opposition with this sonic ammo. |
It’s a gamble going up against the illest flow. |
But I’m widely known for how hard my PENicillin go. |
Extraterrestrial from out the inner city, |
they resent me cuz of how my antenna innocently glow. |
My braggadocious magnum opus got em wide open. |
Them visionary bars keep that 3rd eye focused. |
I’m tryna spark a revolution with these fire |
vocals, these IG celebrities too busy being antisocial. |
But I’m the people’s champ, |
Ali every release i ever tamper with |
and trample any foes that get into my way. |
Rumble anybody in the concrete jungle, |
have the entire underground chanting Sa-Roc Bomaye. |
I’m illuminating every verb and noun in my |
vocabulary, have em starting rumors trying to ruin my day. |
But I still throw up pyramids with every lyric |
spit, so paparazzi keeping watch in every room I lay. |
Honey skinned diamond out the roughest part of the terrain. |
The last standing heir apparent of the Moorish reign. |
Pressure got me snapping on the drum patterns, |
claiming every block within earshot into the Lord’s domain. |
I done had family back stab me til my blood run. |
And old friends that held me down when I ain’t had nothing. |
Now strangers tryna sell me follows and adds like mad men. |
Cuz I’m on W mag covers modeling fads in fashion. |
I’m a rhyme assassin, call me sharp shooter. |
Got the locs Bantu knotted up just like a black |
Buddha, while they chasing after bread, cream, guap, Gouda. |
I’m stacking silver chips and every type of gold bouillon. |
Once a honor roll student of the craft now I’m |
giving demonstrations on the basics in the lab. |
If you ain’t taking notes I’m assuming you up for grabs, |
and I’ll bust and leave your rap career in stasis on a Petrie glass. |
Never been no play play, rarely catch me smiling in a picture. |
I be working hard to turn these spiritual lines to scriptures. |
Every one of my verses guaranteed to make you ponder like, |
How she wander into the game and |
make her nom de plume a music fixture? |