Cover art for Green Lights by Cayea

Green Lights

Cayea
Track 8 on The Curve 

Produced by

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Green Lights Lyrics

My intellect has intersected with my passion
My creed’s to get you higher and to be the games assassin
Now who’s laughing? I’m working like a madman
To be the don draped in satin,
I see men starting to
Respect me, all I need is an “ay, ay, captain”
Frack the rock, gassed up from what I’ve tapped in
Two of you would make me slacking, your style has
My eyes wet and hands knee slapping, Google mapping
The headquarters of thee rapping, got your girl D catching
I’m the reason you are both detaching, and your momma
Turned you into a latchkey, I ever need my dogs, they as
Loyal as Lassie and the L alliteration for you losers who are lacking
I’m relaxing like an unretired lacrosse player who's ragging
In every verse your nagging, needs a little punch dummy
My flow mean yo, it probably stole your lunch money
Give it up, on a mission to live it up like Gods
Bring it back if you don’t try hard, counter clockwise on your iPod
Rewind, quit now or at least be wise and revise
These local rappers kinda shy like a Lake Street drive
No dimes, but they ate four fives, no surprise, and
I’m sure that they’re pain gets heavy ‘cause I came with
The illest sound ever like a swoosh through a chain net
Mind’s insane I don’t know where my brain went
But getting it from honeys been the closest thing I can get
Trying to get my game set, scrabble up your cranium
My rhymes are more bomb than Einstein holding uranium
I’m trying to pack a stadium off online sales, so I can
Measure money on my scales, that’s bars of gold
I drop the scent of rappers on my trail, it’s to the
Lands with the palms I sail, tell your classmates
Tardy teachers in the game make the class wait
Meanwhile I rock the mic like Pippin on a fast break
Mass hate, but I still profess my finenessness
‘Bout to make that sundress drop like the S is
I don’t know what stress is right now because less is more
I’m underground hitting a broom to the floor, left the
Nest and I soared, majestic presence galore, the
Obsolescent unpleasant scent of these peasants is poor
My tribe’s quest will endure, we’re on a tour for awards
I’m the earth personified, fire derives from my core
Your verse seems more of a chore than something
Meaningfully bore That’s probably why they’re always
Leaving me bored, it doesn’t seem right
When all these fake personas always come off fiend like
I think dark, I dream bright, my eyeballs just beam light
Raoul in the drop top I came up on the scene right
Why would I stop when all I’ve ever seen is green lights?

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