Bicycle (Gold Cycle)

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Cryptic One

Cryptic One is a musical artist known for their unique style and thought-provoking lyrics. They have gained recognition for their innovation within the hip-hop genre, incorporating various elements from different musical genres to create their distinct sound. Cryptic One's music often reflects social and political commentary, while also delving into introspective and personal themes. Their artistic contributions have made a significant impact on the independent music scene, making them a respected figure among fans and peers alike. more »

2:17

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I was the first rock to get chipped when they let the pickaxe fly
My life is a riddle I sit here and wonder why
They pulled my from my quit existence amidst the quartz
And threw me in a mine cart with others of my sort with force
And toss in their tools
A pickaxe and hardhat
Hey Im no fool
My shines legitimate, faking its farfetched
Then shipped to a factory to actually feel heat
And melted down and reshaped til the perfect circles complete
And shipped out again, my friend, into a store
To sit inside a glass case for onlookers to adore
And Im purchased by this worthless whore
Who smiled at the sales person while on her lips surface was a herpes sore
Next Im placed upon her index
Later she meets with a guy that she calls Daddy and he seems vexed
He beats her til she’s a mess and then removes her garments
And he mounts up on top of her with no saddle, no harness
F*ck!
Yeah I think thats what its called
And the plan was to escape this all before this whore gets mauled
Afterwards, she sleeps
The man grabs me and gently creeps
Out the door but the door made a loud creak
She opens her eyes
Gets her purse, grabs steal, takes aim
To his and her surprise, perfect shot bullet breaks brain
Carcass falls forward to the carpet
She wraps him in it
Im still in his pocket wrapped in darkness
Minutes later I hear a knock
Don't worry I have a spot where the body can rot
Before its found by cops
Then Im plopped into a trunk
With a thump
She’s told to relax
Pulled from the trunk to another vehicle
This one on tracks
Im thrown
The carpet opens
I see Im in a ditch
In the same mine I started
Aint that a bitch?
End and the beginning
They’re somewhat parallel
A swell life cycle
Endless relentless carousel
What goes around comes back through the roots
What goes around comes back through the roots
What goes around comes back through the roots
See you at the revolution
See you at the revolution

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