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Mixtape (Prod. Blunt)
01:28
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Spit it how I live it, them suckas livid. Get it then I give it, paint the picture vivid. Fuckas timid, talk they image but can’t walk it, walk it. I am who I say, damn right I may slay. I chalk it, chalk it to the trials and the tribulations. My piles of creations and all the celebrations. Came from styles of lame dumb aisles. I take the narrow path, and feel an arrow wrath. Dart to the heart, part what I start. I used to not finish, that shit would just diminish. Half ass shit, now I smash blast it. A Hype the type to go to war and soar. What’s this I hear, you don’t fear shit? You lying, ain’t trying to get near it. Stick a prick in ya Clique, you pick. Want war, I can haunt more, as I said, you pick. I get, in my zone and I win the throne. I been alone so I don’t fear when I’m gone. I’m used to the feeling, bruised from the dealing. What I gotta lose? If I gotta snooze. Forever and ever, never could you say. I would’ve strayed. It was you who left, you should’ve stayed. You Vader and now dreading heading to the dark side. Red in that beam, the aim at ya stark side. From me, I’m smart, you a dummy. I know boundaries, how much we gotta pound this. Through you, enough is enough. I got this on LOX, the ride is rough. Hot is my box, a ride of stuff. To puff to, snuff to, just not to bluff to. If you ain’t real, at least try to heal. Sorry for me ain’t cut the deal. New album on the way, shall I let it spill? Few seldom on the way, call it oh so ill.
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Empty (Prod. A Hype)
02:16
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My force tower, every word like horse power. Heavy slurred substance, my dub hence, a snub wince. I’m too dense for the new tense, you’re a nuisance. They say but hey that’s just A. Of course our, taste sour when we waste hour. After hour tryna chase fame that we face. The game which we take place, the aim became a disgrace. Trace back to kindness, it was the fame that blind us.
My force tower, every word like horse power. Carrying the chariot, beef I bury it. Grief I mary it, seeing how I’m being haunted. Varying in level, but never settle, a devil daunted. Ever petal, not knowing where ya going? I feel the same way, life deal what the game say. To do, if you hit it big, still do you. If you get a swig of the fame it may screw you. True blue hue, is all that we left with. You wanna keep deep peace? It’s kept if. You, stay true to you among the strung tongue. Mocking and misery, my talking delivery. Not understood, but the wonder good, I hope. My dope, get as wet as the river be. Cold how it told, try to heat like rotisserie? Do as you please, but to eat there no true ease.
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It ain’t hard to tell, scarred as hell, barred like jail. My mic is like psych and strike if it ain’t feel. The illest realest shit, this is it, A Hype legit. I type a bit, then release, when the streets want them beats. Flowed over, I sowed over the whole thang. Doper than cocaine to yo brain, my goal main. Tain, not cease, I got peace in my heart. The animosity monstrosity, I had to part. Nas is a GOAT, amass the quote that he wrote. I float like a boat when I hear a peer note. Everything precise, heavy swing oh so nice, Jesus Christ, he spit well, it ain’t hard to tell.
Now we go again, wow I sow the pen game. I know they say ho, I may go call men lame. I switch it up, never bitch it up toward her. See how I floored her, that’s cause I forward her. Muh’ fuckas crazy, suckas acting so hazy. Fact in this is you just a bust, lazy. Yeah, that’s what we call them fellas. Y’all them jealous ones, I relish in my funds. Duns, what up, haters, debaters, shut up. I’ma end yo drama, have ya bleeding gut up. Needing the stuff to puff, I don’t bluff. I’m buff and raising hell, it ain’t hard to tell.
The lesson I’m stressin’ is to be truly you. But some got numb and get they unruly crew. Bet they cruely do, shit that get old and told. But they never fold, won’t even ever mold. We gotta eliminate, lotta grim the hate give off. I live off passion, love of this fashion. Crashin’, smashin’, hit and shit, I get a bit. Of respect, more for neglect, but it all I can expect. Nas, the class teacher, reacher of the hip hop. Illmatic, still static off of the tip top. LP, well we wanna let it shine. Odds one the God’s Son, none, but bet it mine. I like to think, my mic and ink oh so well, with every word I spell, hell, it ain’t hard to tell.
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I'm Trying (Prod. 0lim)
01:10
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