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cyne - octagon كلمات الأغنية

[intro]
“c-y-n-e”

[verse 1: cise star]
yo, i dream of elohim, melody sounding so heavenly
chocolate-brown skin to the dark shade of ebony
hills of beverly, cleverly. for change, memories
ever so gently hitting me, purring like a bentley
crisp style so beautiful—my sound suitable
making you move slow and swift within your cubicle
while you take a break from work and like letting me revelate
my sound penetrates your ears, making them resonate
your legs go limp from my lyrical gift
the musical bliss like the first time you had a kiss
making you wish that the cise star will never quit
spitting the world plate, style so ever elegant
i be the champagne of rap. how you love that -n-logy?
baby girl, come on—shake your anatomy
right in front of me, making me smile, love your company
att-tude bubbly, surprising me ever so subtly
now you wanting me to caress? need to undress
so i can bless the silhouette showing through your dress
nevertheless, only give you the best
so you can confess you had it as good as it gets

[hook: cise star and (akin)] (x2)
yo, what up, son? (top gun without a jet, rocket booster)
taking a delorean (back to the future, son)
one on one with avalon, driving on the autobahn
(epsilon, super n-ggas fighting in the octagon)

[verse 2: akin]
i’m lyrically fit—i speak [knocking?] words when i spit
avoid akin—his murder [begs?] stick to the script
oh yeah, i’m heaven-sent and, still, i’m too sick for medicine
i make love, then spite my wife—[think i’m fetishing?]
group s-x, smart wordplay with two techs
so who’s next? f-ck all y’all—i smooth, best
might renegade. my right grenades for the stage
for excitement. f-ck no smile—call me frightening
i don’t give a… nah, really—i do
what i meant was, “i don’t give a f-ck about you!”
like a old fool with pockets full, i’m tryna lock the globe
tryna mock your bowl with the vocabulary gold
oh, no! the mc specimen
still testing men with a black, deadly pen, and
n-ggas are frantic. we gigantic, meet them in the [?] next to the atlantic

[verse 3: cise star and akin]
[cise star]
yo, rejuvenating heaven and rocking a triple-seven
i’m robbing a 7-eleven without a f-cking weapon
my lyrical talk be getting me wallet and watch
rings with rocks, fat–ss shoes and new socks
this is how we do it when we rhyming on fluid
the b-tches are clueless. before you know, we’re acting like nudists
and getting so stupid, yelling, “cyne n-ggas are foolish!
they be rocking a microphone and forever be zooted”
[akin]
yeah, akin said it. first of all, y’all pathetic
non-apologetic—with words, i’m magnetic
so close to home. my soul, rebel thoughts roam
see, my rap a sick disease, so catch the fully-blown
automatic song. i’m like a python
akin’ll move with the paper—may i spit venom strong?
“i’m too legit to quit,” so i hammer foes
my grandma goes, “holy sh-t.” i [slam?] her [phone?]
for you, i pity. paid dues—your crew’s sh-tty
cyne. we not borderline—we hover the city
parachuting off the moon. soon, we’ll be eclipsing it
mcs meet the verbal glock with fully loaded clips in it
i dodge trouble. i’m popping cyphers like bubble
i’m lyrically inclined—i speak your mind, shuttle
back and forth like a pendulum—that’s how i handle ’em
i’m damaging mcs—into the abyss, i’m sending ’em
word is life as i go through change
i got my sky shooting stars with it in close range
i said-a, “word is life as i go through change
i got my sky shooting stars with it in close range”

[outro: cise star]
what up, son?

- cyne

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