Earl Sweatshirt - Hive (Feat. Casey Veggies & Vince Staples) Lyrics
[Verse 1: Earl Sweatshirt]Promise Heron I'll put my fist up after I get my dick suckedQuick buck, maybe a gold chainWith that *****ing flow that s-s-so belittles menThey tentatively tend to turn and go when I am finishedStone cold, hardly *****ing with these niggas, nigga listenThe description doesn't fit, if not a synonym of menace, then forget itIn turn, these critics and internsAdmitting the shit spitted just burn like six furnacesWrit, it affixed learning them digits, and simultaneouslyDispelling one-trick-pony myths, isn't he?One adolescent, *****ing six-nigga energyAnd crawling down fax like a rich nigga centipedeCrack ceramic and slap a hand out of cash accountStamp and shouting, thrashing, these niggas done let the Kraken outCrack-a-lackin', like snap, crackle, poppin' your ammo offHide your face, and throw your flannels off, Sweatshirt, nigga[Hook]'87 roof top, BronsonWhipping hoopties tryna boost raw chronic(Brutus in that booth, double scoop, hot vomit up)(Sub rocking, thud knocking niggas teeth loose)Bruh, I don't ***** with no cop(Rolling with that flow swamp)Catch me over stove top(Rapping to that coke rock)(Passionless in old Jive clothingWith them doors wide open)(Dim the floor lights, focused)Like it's nothing, cause it's nothing, *****[Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt]From a city that's recession-hitWith stress niggas could flex metal with, peddle to rake pennies inDesolate testaments trying to stay Jekyll-ishBut most niggas Hyde, and Brenda just stay pregnantBreaking news: death's less important when the Lakers loseIt's lead in that baby food, heads try to make it throughFish-netted legs for them eyes that she cater toRide dirty as the *****ing sky that you praying toSo here I sit, eye in the pyramidGod spit it like it's truth serum in that beer and thenDisappear again, reappear beardedOn top of a lear, steering it into the kids' ear againProvider of the backdrop musicFor the crack rock user and the mascot, EarlRawer than the skinned knee cap on the blacktopSalivary glands, lighter fluid for the matchboxStriking, wait, wait, who the ***** you badder than?Boy, oh boy, I'm bad as burnt pollo off the grill and shitSpitter of the Little Nick, nimble, rickrolling***** niggas pick litter, piff-blower, plus I pillage shit[Hook][Verse 3: Vince Staples]Quit with all that tough talk, bruh, we know you niggas ain't about shitCome around, we gun 'em down, bodies piled, AuschwitzBulletproof outfits, weapons concealedI'm ready to kill, so test it, all my weapons is realSelling thizz, couldn't tell him what the recipe isGot 'em wishing that they never gave these weapons to kids, cheersSend chills up spines of fat *****es afterShows throwing out sandwiches, niggas get it how theyLive and I live for money, other words, I'm getting moneyLittle boy told me when it’s time to ride, they’ll send them for meAin't nobody scaring me, niggas ain't prepared for heatTools hit like pool sticks, the way I cue shitIf this was '88, I would have signed to RuthlessNine-four, would've had them walking down Death RowFirst is when the best go, hate is what the rest doVoice inside my head told me, "Wet 'em if they test you"So it's Raging Waters seasonThat yomper big as Larry Johnson, leave your momma seedlessEverybody hard until it's only God they seeingKittens soft but in they songs be trapping hard as Jeezy, I don't believe itBut to each his own, I ain't tripping long as I can reach the chromeHeat your home like Southern California Gas, police passTell 'em "Free Smalls," off Palm with the heat drawnStrapped up long as the chief for police armedRaised where the beasts are, north of the BeachA couple streets past Baby J, bony niggas spraying KsRuger with the pork face, Jewish for the court caseHere to save you niggas from the sorbet, Coldchain[Outro]Like it's nothing, cause it's nothing, *****
