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VINYL/CD/MERCH: Sa-Roc.com
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VIDEO CREDITS:
Directed by: Tommy Nova
Director Of Photography: Brent Gates
Gaffer: Sean Cokes
Studio: Classic Film Studios Inc
SONG CREDITS:
Written & Performed By Sa-Roc
Produced By Sol-Messiah
CONNECT WITH SA-ROC:
rhymesayers.com/artists/saroc
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LYRICS:
Dropped from out the clouds, had to change form. Flooded the plains, had em praying for my brainstorms. I’m a master, pieced from divine. Every work of Art got a bitter mob trying to frame jawn. I’m heir to an era of conflict, where the post codes drawn so the pros and the cons split. Professionals been robbin hoods with a palm flick. Gave to the poor and the Black the stigmata of convict. See, the cross we bear is too familiar. Embedded in the home of the brave, the darkest of interiors. Saw street scholars and soldiers defect cuz they post traumatic stressed from the American experience. Go awf then! I’m finna go all in. Murk every line came before this delivery, make orphans. See, my heart bleed from the hardship in my origins. My great grand sold for a band at Southern auctions. It’s the razor edge in my cadence that shredded through these paper trails. Only alphabet boys I trust is NOI and Els. Only alchemy justify the nuggets I expel. Inner city idol trying to be the next Ida Wells. Roc.
I don’t know what you might’ve heard, but we ain’t going nowhere- But up
Got a whole squad dressed in all black, got the streets on notice-what up?
They want us in the same place ain’t nobody ever gonna really change nothing-But us.
Hello, this is revolution get on up.
Born queen with a street type of etiquette. That’s why I rule over every subject and predicate. Scrawl these searing indictments on every edifice. Symbols of my holy cabal the only evidence. Look, scuse the venom in my rap tone. Cuz more often than sweet, life served vinegar in Black homes. More specifically where fire lit them crack stones. War on drugs turned a fiend to felon in a snap-gone. Inspired ire in my diatribe. Cuz polished liars trying to tell us that Shabazz is a dying tribe. So imma turn this pen and tablet to a tabernacle, so them jinns can’t distinguish God from me-I and I. Spit the 12 jewels to free em from the 13th. This a clear view like babies seeing from the first blink. They can’t buy the spirit from our nation, cut the purse strings. Gene pool established- ancestors was the first link. Guarantee we finna recoup. Stunting recovered Ghanaian gold on the molars of every tooth. We buying back the blocks, Black Wall Street pursuit. If we fell couple of times, the rise absolute. Trust me.
I don’t know what you might’ve heard, but we ain’t going nowhere- But up
Got a whole squad dressed in all black, got the streets on notice-what up?
They want us in the same place ain’t nobody ever gonna really change nothing-But us.
Hello, this is revolution get on up.
I don’t know what you might’ve heard, but we ain’t going nowhere- But up
Got a whole squad dressed in all black, got the streets on notice-what up?
They want us in the same place ain’t nobody ever gonna really change nothing-But us.
Hello, this is revolution get on up. #SaRoc #TheSharecroppersDaughter #Rhymesayers