Strictly subjective view on music and hip-hop culture worldwide, from the standpoint of seasoned boom bap enthusiasts.
Sa-Roc treats us to the first dose of powerful bars off her upcoming mixtape The Legend Of Black Moses.
Check "G Train" lyrics: The champ is back like Muhammad Ali. My whole 6 yrs your whole camp been hollering bout me. Who is Roc, who she got behind her movement my G? That's that black righteous shit that all her crew with I see. Catching bodies on that Bobby Seale and Kwame Toure, pardon self I'm just Assata with the llamas on fleek, spitting hollows out the left and right sides of my cheeks. Watch me fire then release, all the rhymes in the clip, then expose all your illusions like a holographic. No coachella but I'm still on my bohemian chic, black Angels on the brim, and moccasins on them feet. I done told you that Sa wasn't playing with yall. You can't sit with us, unless you finna get with the cause. Time is up, I'm impeaching Richard Nixon you gone. Asphyxiate my competition watch em stiffen and fall. All from choking on that bitterness that failure recalls. I'm the Mahalia of bars, this the gospel of God, they call me queen so you're prepared for the regalia involved. Got that gold crown tilted like I'm Christopher Wallace. Eff a diamond, Check my black magic, crystals are flawless. Patna I'll light you up like a 7 day, try me, then put you out your misery like a mercy kill, I be- breaking necks everytime that beat bang, heat brang to the table like a plate of soul food, collard greens. I'm part to blame for all the drama in rap. I told em miss me with that trap cuz ain't no honor in that. If u a pimp, what you saying to your daughter, in fact where was all the goddamn killers when Mike Brown was attacked? See I don't have respect for you. I don't even like you, but I don't have to be friends to defend my title. Im either in monster or in mantra mode, take your pick. Watch me defecate all on your dopest track, talking shit. Busting math over 808s, to the 85ths, spewing calculus out my esophagus, vomitus. Imma just take you all to class with the classics, malcolm x, ballot or the bullet what you thinking? This ain't no democracy I'm cocking back the hammer, then March you to your end like its Montgomery Alabama. Lyrical equivalent of watts 65, it's black and white I'm burning down the block-this a riot. I'm Allat, God made me, man now forsakes me, but imma cop a squat and birth a planet on the tape. Me and you are like a piece of Christmas ham on Muslim plates, it ain't kosher, you ain't close to being at home with the greats sucka.
BobYaHead - Strictly subjective view on music and hip-hop culture worldwide, from the standpoint of seasoned boom bap enthusiasts.