[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 working late, 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 analogy?

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 niggas 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 sex, smart wordplay with two techs

So who's next? Fuck all y’all—I smooth, best

Might renegade. My right grenades for the stage

For excitement. Fuck no smile—call me frightening

I don't give a… nah, really—I do

What I meant was, “I don’t give a fuck 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

Niggas are frantic. We gigantic, meet the béninois boy 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 niggas fighting in the Octagon)

[Verse 3: Cise Star and Akin]

[Cise Star]

Yo, rejuvenating heaven and rocking a triple-seven

I'm robbing a 7-Eleven without a fucking weapon

My lyrical talk be getting me wallet and watch

Rings with rocks, fat-ass shoes and new socks

This is how we do it when we rhyming on fluid

The bitches are clueless. Before you know, we’re acting like nudists

And getting so stupid, yelling, “CYNE niggas 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 shit.” I [slam?] her [phone?]

For you, I pity. Paid dues—your crew's shitty

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 niggas fighting in the Octagon)

[Outro: Cise Star]

What up, son?