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