Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song This Year , by - CYNE. Song from the album Water For Mars, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 05.12.2019
Record label: Project Mooncircle
Song language: English
This Year |
| 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… |