Cicada
We speak in morse code
Look up for the source code
But I be in morph mode
Triple dot, triple line, triple dot
I'm that stem class you can't pass in your course load
Got more rings than your android
Flip paper like the pages of a tabloid
Take your money like a one toothed landlord
We ivy league
You home-schooled
We a Stanford
I stay leaning cause you know I can't stand for it
Give me stacks cause you know I got a band for it
Hungry like the wolf
Duran Duran
Fresh wrapped in suran
Rooster on the roof
Wake up with the sun
Can't sleep when you know the truth
We out here like targets
They shooting
20 points for the pre-teen
50 point for the big man
Selling cigs on the street
Hundred points for the whole team
Got me out here nervous
Slow down when I see the blue lights
Even Sunday service
Don't feel the same
Gotta wonder if they feel ashamed
Do they really wanna serve us
But it ain't new
So just like before, we gone do what they can't do
We magic, we magic
Spinning gold from the tragic, rainbows in the storm
Paper planes from the mundane
Cast spelled in the worst hell
Palm trees from the napalm
Bomb ass culture
See them circling vultures
Make a torch from the torture
See the light in the midnight
Left the old life to get right
Go from poor to a Porsche
Keep a riddle for the trolls at the toll bridge
Put their lights out cold like a closed fridge
Trying to get new money
So my great, great, great, great grand kids, kids can be old rich
Cicada
Cicada
Cicada
Look up for the source code
But I be in morph mode
Triple dot, triple line, triple dot
I'm that stem class you can't pass in your course load
Got more rings than your android
Flip paper like the pages of a tabloid
Take your money like a one toothed landlord
We ivy league
You home-schooled
We a Stanford
I stay leaning cause you know I can't stand for it
Give me stacks cause you know I got a band for it
Hungry like the wolf
Duran Duran
Fresh wrapped in suran
Rooster on the roof
Wake up with the sun
Can't sleep when you know the truth
We out here like targets
They shooting
20 points for the pre-teen
50 point for the big man
Selling cigs on the street
Hundred points for the whole team
Got me out here nervous
Slow down when I see the blue lights
Even Sunday service
Don't feel the same
Gotta wonder if they feel ashamed
Do they really wanna serve us
But it ain't new
So just like before, we gone do what they can't do
We magic, we magic
Spinning gold from the tragic, rainbows in the storm
Paper planes from the mundane
Cast spelled in the worst hell
Palm trees from the napalm
Bomb ass culture
See them circling vultures
Make a torch from the torture
See the light in the midnight
Left the old life to get right
Go from poor to a Porsche
Keep a riddle for the trolls at the toll bridge
Put their lights out cold like a closed fridge
Trying to get new money
So my great, great, great, great grand kids, kids can be old rich
Cicada
Cicada
Cicada
Credits
Writer(s): April Lewis
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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