D.T.F.N [feat. Cise Starr]

I left my mind mental going back to grind central.

It is essential that I move my pencil. My credentials in my

Dental make it nice and simple, so y’all can hear it, never

Fear it, and you come and listen (Listen up, listen up) 'cause

My rhyme style forever glisten, making it a mission for

Rap to be a New-Age established religion

So we gon’ move it in my pulpit. My tabernacle

Will shackle any emcees that want to step to me and battle

I’m keeping the peace and order while I’m hitting the gavel

You talking that bullshit? You’re gonna hit the gravel

'Cause I’ma do what I can and do what I must

Those silly mother****ers can’t rock the mic—they need to hush (Shut up)

I'll be your favorite fanatical lyrical lush

Feeding your ears with grade-A lyrical food stuffs

Making you blush when you hear it, making your spirit

Overjoyed from these lyrics. After, you want to spit it (Yeah)

Honey, we’re vivid on candid camera. Now, I’m scaring ya

Like Godzilla fighting Gamera, spreading malaria (Haha)

In your area, pandemonium just abound ‘cause

The CYNE’ll hit ya town with that musical sound now

And move the crowd with the graphic displays of physical

Waves that make you wanna lose it for days

****, we made lyrical art and serenade

Impress the mind like miracles in biblical days

Blessing the club with my presence, forgetting all of my lessons

The only protection that I’m carrying is not a weapon

Gets to high stepping when you see me. No man can ever

Beat me. I sit back and shine hard—believe me

I’m glistening, talking bullshit while niggas listening

Pushing a bubble, I’m sitting hard on black Michelin

Wrapped around a twenty-inch, buff shine ridiculous

Freak nasty hoes, squat down, and lick meticulous

You’re hearing this? Keeping these chickenheads delirious

With the vocab and the neck sparkling serious

Come on, shorty. Don’t look shy—no need fearing this

With your cute eyes, fat thighs, and hair marvelous (Yeah)

Your skin tone melodic, your voice sound exotic

You're so fine, potpourri scent from when you farted (Haha)

Let's get it started back at my place, getting retarded

And don’t be acting brand-new, boo—we getting on it. So what

So what you talk about? Here are my digits, so hit the walkabout

So we can set it up in the truck. You know we bout to ****

So light it up. I’m blazing your mind. We’re passing the time

**** doing lines. We’re sipping on expensive wines

Damn, you’re fine. Pretty brown thighs I’m gonna climb

Body sublime, sipping Corona, licking the lime

Line for line, it’d be the Cise ripping your mind

So give me some time so we can unwind

Yo

This is how we did it. The city is getting me hype

Grabbing the mic, PreCise Star ripping it nice (Nice)

Dimming the lights, my words became the vehicle

Moving the crowd—lyrical sounds remain diesel

The speakers amplify the words of my mind. In the

In the physical sense stands one-fourth of the CYNE. Repping

Reppin this rhyme, so I'm standing to the right of the God

"Up Above," giving love while he's rapping his song

Even though I stand 5'11", my head is touching heaven

Above the clouds, our sounds stop 9/11

I be the Deacon Reverend rocking a triple-7

It’d be the crews I'm wrecking, so, sonny, I’m call-collecting

I’m staying, leaving a message, but sometimes you’re second-guessing

You’d better be understanding that I never left a first question

Moving my music, meticulous in many directions

Hitting your city, town, area, province, and section