CYNE, Soarse Spoken - Spoken For lyrics

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

Folding you niggas 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 motherfuckers
Who ain’t ready
You swishers sweet i’m Philly-blunt, so
"What the fuck?"
I’m dollar with mine yo bitch-ass, nickel up
The sign of the times look at the dark skies
Is it money or politics? What’s
Your reason for rhyme, nigga?

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 nigga 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
Fuck that! Believing in God, then trust that
They bust at better bust back it’s on now

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