Cyne - Spoken For lyrics

[Verse 1: Soarse Spoken] A formidable foe. Conformity's comfortable You sacrificed content for a more diggable flow We're all sick of your ho. Act as a model citizen Popping bottles of hollow medicine—betcha these shots'll let ‘em in Ease that, let the beat lapse A mic's a wife to an emcee, so why's yours giving you feedback? Gather the crowd and move them—I'm a smooth cat Who only loses his cool when the crowd doesn't groove back Transmit lyrical transit. Rhymes are an oasis placed in a sand pit You wanting in on the game but you can't fit ‘Cause I'm a monster in heat, pondering deep Rotten from the devils conquering me So stay patient. These radio waves communicated Through a radio slave station. Your heartrate's racing The sound is straight basement. Polish lecture My platoon carries canteens for the knowledge nectar From a fruit with a solid texture for those doubting scriptures A picture's worth a thousand words, but my word's worth a thousand pictures You fountain licks are earth works with a mountain mixture Guerilla music warfare for the sound, the most The more vicious the flow, the more rare ‘Cause I'm a creature in habit, blazing Here to speak to a savage nation I provide plenty food for thoughts, so feed your imagination [Verse 2: Cise Star] Folding you n***as in my soldier state, setting the stage for war With Air Force Ones, I'm walking through Kuwait Bulletproof bubble jackets, using my desert tactics Camouflage to my toes. My trigger finger's spastic Heavy in streets like 24s on box Chevies I rock steady on motherf**ers who ain't ready You swishers sweet. I'm Philly-blunt, so, “What the f**?” I'm dollar with mine—yo b**h-a**, nickel up The sign of the times—look at the dark skies Is it money or politics? What's your reason for rhyme, n***a? [Verse 3: Akin] I'm not content with they style they boast. And, so, I approach The mic with a fighter's ghost—spirit on my shoulder, older Wise and now I learn to be a soldier. But not a street soldier Phony emcees, your acting days are over Poof. But gone, you're not one to hear—look You're not a real revolutionary—you's a punk crook For hire. My voice over drum inspire A young n***a to scream out, “We're living in fire” Grab your gun for war now—we marching as one As a drummer boy toy with a beat—that's fun but hard My face scars ‘til I'm ready for more A refugee far from home—let's settle the score I cannot tire, fight ‘til my words expire Out of my mouth, I shout to the peasant empire Young boys with they pants sagging They probably bragging in cyphers They relay rhymes—tongues are magnums But only if you knew the might of your own words You gotta let it be, be free—one with the birds Moving in motion, I see hypocrites approaching Tryna figure me out just to get me open And break me down. It's too late—they woke me now I'm feeling like Marx—they hate to embrace me now Those days are gone of wondering what's gon' happen Believe in the hammer, running with the likes of Sharpton. Man f** that! Believing in God, then trust that They bust at. Better bust back—it's on now [Verse 4: Cise Star] Carry the weight on shoulders—behold the bold soldier Holding his own, he groans under the new pressure Getting his act together, braving the stormy weather Fighting the feedback, sweat staining his new sweater Nervous but still going. Lyrics forever flowing Out of his lips—he flips until the next chorus Crowd going insane—adrenaline in his brain Feeling a higher power guiding me, pulling the reigns Never a full stop until the crowd drops Surging with energy, he spitting ‘til the speaker pops Gripping the mic until the people seeing the light Gripping it tight, making sure the lyrics entice A state of mind where peace and war intertwine The fine line between me and you just goes blind And ‘til the song transcends reality, bends Heartbeats in unison, music will never end