lirik lagu debilorithmicos - i'm out
[verse 1: cise star]
surfing in a rainbow. cops, n-gga, so lay low
they can’t hold him down—got more weapons than halo
life bring a singer his words. a debt wringer
one hand be a fist. the other is middle finger
high in the air, despair over the happiness
and medicated sadness drapes this tragic atlas
suburban african down with pro-blackness
my people hurting for certain when they control madness
please hear my demo—got more copies than kinko
hustle with the flow. just a pimp with dreams of hero
f-ck a skinny black. we blast you out the delta
mississippi mud, we blood, flow with the weather
what?
[hook: cise star]
untether the streets. come on, honey, we major
don’t have much but we shine like lasers
will to survive, don’t cry—we got angels
fire in the sky rebuild, heal a nation
south got flooded, west coast is burning
north stay freezing, east remain hurting
all we need is godzilla to finish the service
whoever’s playing this sim city needs to be cursing
[verse 2: cise star]
i’m like guy montag, changing my mind for better
under the weather, mustafa mind hold it together
but maybe he don’t. another sinner sin in his h-ll
it’s like god and his saved men forward on the shelves. get it?
i’m getting too deep and making you read between the lines
when i cosign tangent to breed the sin
the cheshire cat keeping a grin
‘cause he had a sip of premium blend getting him up now
and on the cut be the cyne label
but don’t get it twisted—you can’t even get this on the merch table
only built 4 cuban linx only made for you to think
got you bent over the sink—throw it up now
throw it up now
[verse 3: akin]
american me. fly like a pelican bee
it’s do or die. benin i, y’all. who want it with he?
the wild african. i’m back with the pen to the pad again
so that’s a wrap for y’all, the phony rap actors in
this game called music. some do abuse it
i reached for utopia, found. now i’m bluesing
no jazz tune, rap goon. word is my weapon
i’m kane in his prime, rhyming. you “half-steppin’”
so half–ssed, you got g-ssed. them crackers made you
i came from the ground up to brawl. they paid you, f-cker
you ain’t never gonna last in this
that’s the every-blingy-type rapper, posing his b-tch
we sh-tting on y’all. why spar the lyrics or brawl
knock the wind out the lame playing steven seagal
i’m jacking your chan. ko, float with the wind
my n-gga cise got that water for mars and we begin
it’s like…
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