This Year - CYNE

Behead the dragon this year—I'm showing no fear

I juxtapose change like I rose with a new year (meaning)

My resolution is like, «No more pledging to demons I’m aligned with mics

That braving the storm for combat.»

Y’all better be warned

Taking eagles out the sky—shit that better be bombs

And better be armed with propaganda, striking and launch

More despair spark the sky lines than night that is dark

The death you wait.

No breath to take.

No breath to take

Eagle blown, clone troops to flake this year

I got a better plan.

Nope, no Beretta, man

It’s 360-plus five ways to change the weather, and

Flip the forecast, let sunshine and broadcast

Beauty through your idiot box—let's rock

Dave made the hot shit now.

We rock

Dave made the hot shit now.

We rock ‘cause

Yeah.

We get it on this year

Evolution take form to go beyond this year (this year, this year)

A lot of goals this year

No holes and dough to break bread this year (this year)

Who want it all this year?

Who want liberty, equality for all this year?

(this year)

Yeah.

We get it all this year

For real, CYNE, we get it all this year

It’s for the broke man stride, juggling pain with pride

Yo, my words worth a mill, but damn, so is a lie—it's shitty

While pelican fly right through your city

When I’m airborne, maritime skies got me shivering

Torn, pawns broke from open warzones

I’m caught in a rapture blast that better duck, holmes

It’s real—I seen the devil in his blue suit

World in his palm look dumber than the Goof Troop

Shit.

And y’all believe in his throne

Please, squeeze not the crime off that

I’m saying, you could label me angry, anti-patriot

A runaway who don’t believe the hype, just like a atheist

But all with a gift.

I speak words with help

Type is the mic in my hand—its sign shift

Battles afar, won and lost a high call

to hip hop—we dine and floss

Noose on your neck.

You thinking that shine had got respect

Blood on your back.

I’m eating this track

I’m thanking, Speck and

Enoch and Cise Starr for repping the music

And I now vow shall never abuse it

Blowing a fuse—a needle type, holding the groove

We be them two black dudes spitting rhythm and blues

Fuck an inauguration

We got soldiers dying in foreign nations

40 million dollars, but they got no body armor

Sending my best friends, family, and all my loved ones

Commander-in-chief, but you never used a gun

Your hand softer than mine, but ending they lives

Of all the those young men before they God-given time

Disgusting.

I’m just a little voice hoping that you hear me clear

I’m fighting my own way for things I hold dear

I love ya homie.

Damn, man, you make it through

They got you over there, but damn don’t let it change you

This year, I’m gonna see joys in pain

Happiness through the hurt, the sunshine after the rain

I give it my all and send it to God

Hoping this year we changing it all

This year, this year

I’m gonna live on my heart, holmes

And give it to God, cous, and keeping it strong so (this year)

This year, hold it down from the start

Futuristic shit, state of the art

This year, this year…