Hive (Feat. Casey Veggies and Vince Staples) – Earl Sweatshirt – letras

[Verse 1: Earl Sweatshirt]Promise Heron I’ll put my fist upafter I get my dick suckedQuick buck, maybe a gold chainWith that fucking flow that s-s-so belittles menThey tentatively tend to turn and go when I am finishedStone cold, hardly fucking with these niggas, nigga listenThe description doesn’t fit, if not a synonym of menaceThen forget it, in turn these critics and internsAdmitting the shit spit, it just burn like six furnacesWritten to fix learning them digits and simultaneouslyDispelling « one-trick-pony » myths, isn’t he?One adolescent, fucking six nigga energyAnd crawling down ‘Fax like a rich nigga centipedeCrack ceramic and slap a hand out of cash accountStamp and shouting, thrashingthese niggas done let the Kraken outCrack-a-lackin, like snap, cracklepoppin’ your ammo offHide your face, and throw your flannels offSweatshirt, nigga[Hook: Casey Veggies (Earl Sweatshirt) ]’87 roof top risingWhipping hoopties, tryna boost raw chronicBrutus in that booth, double scoophock vomit up, sub rockingThud knocking niggas teeth loose)Bruh, I don’t fuck with no cops(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, bitch[Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt]From that city that’s recession-hit, where stressedNiggas could flex metal with pedal to rake pennies inDesolate testaments trying to stay Jekyll-ishBut most niggas Hyde and Brenda just stay pregnantBreaking news: death’s less importantwhen 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 fucking sky that you praying toSo here I sit, eye in the pyramidGod spit it like it’s truth serum in that beer and then(Poof) Disappear again, reappear bearded onTop 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 black topSalivary glands lighter fluid for the matchboxStriking, wait, wait, who the fuck you badder than?Boy oh boy, I’m bad as burnt pollo off the grill and shitSpitter of the little Nick, nimble, rickrollingBitch niggas pick litter, piff-blower, plus I pillage shit[Hook][Verse 3: Vince Staples]Quit with all that tough talk, bruhwe 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 gavethese weapons to kids, cheersSend chills up spines of fat bitches 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 ridethey’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 Ruthless’94 would have 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 youSo it’s raging water seasonThat yomper big as Larry Johnsonleave your momma seedlessEverybody hard until it’s only God they seeingKittens soft but in they songs be trapping hard as JeezyI don’t believe itBut to each his own, I ain’t trippinglong 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 Jay, 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, bitch