Cancion : Soapbox
Artista : CYNE
Album : Evolution Fight
Url : https://www.letras10.co/letra-soapbox-de-cyne


[Verse 1: Akin]
Fuck a penny for my thoughts, here's a dollar
If you can hear me holla why they pop collar
Champagne and combosie, I press play on the RCA to bring a legend back for the artists
Stay tuned with the stars man, design bars man
I rock with a passion of fight cause life's hard
As long as my sky spinnin', and I reside in it
I define livin' with though slides trippin'
Killing innocence.  Fuck a Glock, Benz, and medicine
Especially when held by keen MC's that grimace and
Fuck y’all thinking “the world’s mine”
Your dumb, deaf, or blind.  Smarten up, see the signs
Buildings fall, for race war we brawl
Like a new civil war fuck Bush and Gore
I got one shot to make it to the top
Like a runaway slave ya'll better call the cops
I must be tragic towards the pop culture fabric
Surreal to the listener this shit must be magic

[Verse 2: Cise Starr]
It's the art of war stores trying to sell me on the bullshit
I'm laced up buckle and belts, pens, and toolkits
Building up my city on rock and roll and soul
Coming back on the physical wax so fuck gold
Not a soldier of fortune, but believer in the defense
Protector of the rights, I fight the current events
Soul so bright I cause a total eclipse
Fuck a new order I began my own sequence
Individual might with individual sight with hot lyrical mics high intensity nights. (try and walk with me)

[Verse 3: Cise Starr]
Back on the stage in a fiery blaze
Letting loose the inner sanctum while I conjure the grave
Resurrecting on cassette cause my heart in stone
Chip on my shoulder, I'm colder
'Cause I'm always alone

[Verse 4: Akin]
And, man, it’s hard to breath without fucking up trees
I zone without the microphone, I’m scribing at ease
Enoch blessed the instro, I let the pen stroke
Paper now exposing the fake, look at minstrels
Reminisce on way back in the day
With black face on the screen and crackers, they mock slaves
Fuck a song and dance. What you get is a glance
A sharp bird’s eye view through black experience
When a sling meet a brake.  A slug meets your fate
White broads on a nigga dick, groupie need the taste
Goddamn, my nigga.  It's like I’ve been here before
Like polaroid shot picture that I’m headed for store
The agonizing truth—just lock me up in that booth
‘Cause I'm keep on spittin' this shit.  It's for the youth
Young niggas coming up, y'all acknowledge the rain
Umbrella on ya head, get ahead in this game
My niggas


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