It’s Sa-Roc, that means competitions finished. Lyrically dominant I eat rapping dummies for dinner. I’ll alphabetically behead em leave em severed don’t sweat it it’s just my school spirit—letterman jackets and denim. I’m Coogi sweater Fugee era, ready or not I’ll drop a 16 and start at the top of your charts. Esophagus hot like tropical type of degrees, lay fire on every joint, I’ll spit and blaze up your trees. Got rappers scary to breathe. But true facts I rap and I affect every mc that I come in contact. U think you seeing my infamous mic skills, Im thinking your sight’s ill and u might want your contacts. I’m covering Complex ankh necklaces cloned from sarcophagus stone, the rap pharaoh I own most every rapper that’s conscious. Cuz gods compressed in each verse and bar immaculate concepts gon rebirth a star. Gumar oz dubar. Either u with it or trying to figure where my Achilles hidden, You’ll never get at my earthly facade. Unh. Look in the light and every like u got on IG gon now seem irrelevant, I.D. by ink flow I.E. My melanin. I’ll be in the darkness haunting your nightmares be taunting you with my prose Im known as the boogiemonster. Constant rain everytime my thunder claps, same reaction from your weak camp, seek and take cover. Just call me bad gyal, there’s no escaping my reach, I’m ruling the cipher y’all can stand under my umbrella. Good fellas stay in the shadows with bow and arrows ready to pop and measure your capo for funerary apparel. Means metaphorical death, cuz I’m a peaceful cadet, but I’ll bust and rip out your jugular from your rhetorical neck. Impeccably dressed in my fitted cap and stiletts, bet u never guessed your end would come from the depths of my chest homie.