Cyne - Octagon lyrics

[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 an*logy? Baby girl, come on—shake your anatomy Right in front of me, making me smile, love your company Attitude 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***as 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**, smart wordplay with two techs So who's next? f** all y'all—I smooth, best Might renegade. My right grenades for the stage For excitement. f** no smile—call me frightening I don't give a… nah, really—I do What I meant was, “I don't give a f** 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***as are frantic. We gigantic, meet them in the [?] next to the Atlantic [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***as fighting in the Octagon) [Verse 3: Cise Star and Akin] [Cise Star] Yo, rejuvenating heaven and rocking a triple-seven I'm robbing a seven eleven without a f**ing weapon My lyrical talk be getting me wallet and watch Rings with rocks, fat-a** shoes and new socks This is how we do it when we rhyming on fluid The b**hes are clueless. Before you know, we're acting like nudists And getting so stupid, yelling, “CYNE n***as 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**.” I [slam?] her [phone?] For you, I pity. Paid dues—your crew's sh**ty 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” [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***as fighting in the Octagon) [Outro: Cise Star] What up, son?