Cise Star - I'm Out lyrics

[Verse 1: Cise Star] Surfing in a rainbow. Cops, n***a, 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—drinks is 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** a skinny black—we blast you out the Delta Mississippi mud—we blood, flow with the weather What? [Hook: Cise Star] [Hunt ten?] in 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—we build, 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 hell It's like God and his [safe end?] forward on the shelves—get it? I'm getting too deep and making you read between the lines When I cosign tangent to [breathe/breed?] the sin The chest-shy 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—he can't even get this on the merch table Only built for Cuban links, 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—bare the nine, 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 reach for utopia—found. Now I'm losing No jazz tune, rap goon—word is my weapon I'm Kane in his prime, rhymin'. You half-steppin' So half-a**ed, you got ga**ed—them crackers made you I came from the ground up to brawl—they paid you, f**er You ain't never gonna last in this That's the every-blingy-type rapper, posing his b**h We sh**ting on y'all. Why spawn the lyrics or brawl Knock the wind, knock the lame, playin' Steven Seagal I'm Jackin' your Chan. KO, flow with the wind My n***a Cise got that Water for Mars and we begin It's like