Singles

Lyrics:

I’m kicking game like shoes, true heaters. Inflicting pain on them hoes, spew liters, the way my mouth done spit so much, who believe us? God Did, this odd kid rock it like two seaters. Going at 100 miles a hour, my styles devour ya power and tower, over ya shit that get sour. Flown in is my crisp kick game, acclaim from err’ sick lane I choose to use, pick it mane. My mouth done spit so much, from south to up in such cold conditions, this bold clear vision is coming to plan. Humming the man, be with his fire bragging. Dire sagging are my foes, these hoes need to retire, bagging a new Jordan, this is hard in fashion sense. Greek Freak signature, week to week I been a pure mort-al, I sport ball in my daily wear. Atlanta Hawks starter jacket, my heart’s a racket. Waiting to happen, ail me near the NBA Store. If I’m to get depressed, new shoes does get me dressed. For success, yes, I stress I need to bless. My fly self with the help, Converse let this don thirst, for more for sure, you’re whore if you still jest, ‘til rest do you part, you gon’ be on that dumb fart. From my butt I dart the best fart, stinky as a bitch. I swear on my pinky, I wear my gear so kinky. Rich in the mind, and in the Reebok’s too. Wearing knee socks, true! Blaring the Hawks, tune. I make, I bake, a strewn fucking epic. I prefer Snivy, but for the rhyme, shout out Tepig. What an epic. Go try me if you wanna time ya dumb numb ass self out. Casting doubt, lasting ‘pout, class in session, mass convention. To see me, A Hype who be, the new free man on the block. I cock back aim, like my penis moving backwards, Waka Flocka Flame, shoutout him, Hard In Da Paint I am. Grooving to the proving wack ‘surds, quite crazy. But fuck it you do it for me, so surely I do it for you! But only in my shoes, bitch!

Shoe Game (Prod. Mark Jones)

Lyrics:

Started in this game young. Big hearted, emotions got me lame strung, the notions I was weak, I couldn’t handle that. I had to peak, stop wit’ ya critique, I thought if I vandal at. What others do, hey, I would put on a display, if that bothers you, get out my way, I’m gon’ let it spray. On the credit of my mom, she told me, that I’m the best version of who I god damn am. Be yourself, don’t put on a mask. Well off it goes to the shelf, and never back. Tell them bro’s I’m helping out, no ask. What kinda task I can do, I ran through the slack. Cause I can vouch for me, yeah, off the couch for me, yeah, no mo’ slouch for me, yeah. Big hearted, never departed. Don’t diminish, I gotta Finish What I Started.

Finish What I Started.
Finish What I Started.
Finish What I Started.
Finish What I Started.
Finish What I Started.
Finish What I Started.
Finish What I Started.
Finish What I Started.

Started in this game a teen. Still big hearted, for rapping I’m a flame that bring. His own thing, inspired by Tupac. This a king, awaiting on the new block. Don’t need a mic, just give me my iPad. Record into it, I’m like a boss, why mad? Is your feeling, be real and pure, but don’t hate. Again I learned my lesson, they just want me to be great. I been so burned each session, wanting to instigate. To my friends, I’m sorry for taking the bait. This is ends, to the pouty insecureness. Let’s make amends, get rowdy and go spit wit’ sureness. I’m so cold, bold, wit’ the arted. For my name in this game, I’ve been smarted. Fame can be lame, so instead, I’ve darted. Back to lit spit, time to Finish What I’ve Started.

Finish What I Started (Prod. Mark Jones)

Lyrics:

Yeah, you heard what the fuck he said, this is a DJ Pillow exclusive, really sleepy shit, you bitch ass mother fucker you better listen! 5 Tool Player!

5 tool player, call me Mookie Betts. My power it devour, y’all sour dookie vets, this a new wave I do pave, I’m brave up in the sweats, keep cool, peep how I rule, as fo’ y’all we fo’ gets.

Wait, that shit crazy, and that’s just my power, I got 4 more mother fucking things I excel at up in this mother fucking game, yeah, well, haha, check this, bitch.

5 tool player, a savage average sprayer, hit to all sides, that ball rides at all layers. Hard hit line drive, out the yard, mine live in effect as the best, go respect or hit to chest, get the gist? Wit’ flick of wrist, I don’t miss, no tricking this, I’m a make contact, this is on fact. Oh, and no slouch wit’ the glove either. Just when you trust you made a hit, I go fade that shit, I love to tether, if you made or not by my diving shot, and I’m paid a lot so yes I save on the dot, go home but not touch the base, I mean be seen on the couch, a waste. Yes, no need to guess, I caught the ball, don’t heed to stress. And if you tryna tag up from 3rd, to home. I stand miffed at why ya try, ya damn turd dome, is full of bull, a dumb brain, hey I can’t complain, good for us, your ass is out, should’ve never gassed him up, the doubt that he would make it home, have passed it up, he don’t care, he dare to form, prone thoughts he could beat me, I hone lots up in meeting, expectations, practicing and patience, knowing my time’ll come, prime’ll, far be from you, a bum.

Oh, oh shit, and I got speed too, you just too slow to catch on to that, you bitch made mother fucker! 5 Tool Player mother fucker! What the fuck you know about that, you bitch made mother fucker! I’m a mother fucking 5 Tool Player, and if you ain’t down with that, then fuck you too! People who hate baseball, fuck you too! All you mother fuckers, fuck you too! 5 Tool Player mother FUCKER!

Five Tool Player (Prod. Mark Jones)

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Music on all platforms under A Hype

Lyrics:

This is ya messenger, no Facebook, A Hype’s the expressenger, my chase look, foolish and foul, to chase ghoulish, the goal, best dead or alive, rest my head when I give, this shit my all, misplaced if not one, why fall when ya ball, I just tasted, defeat, we beat ourselves up for crap that ain’t shelves, us, we must have faced set back to get back, fly sky high like jet pack, stand tall and hand y’all more hot spit, done when I say I wanna be, king of bragging, the thing I’m taking off on is gonna be top model, no flop, mad hell inducing, been using, but anywho, NASA ain’t even pass the test on it yet, I just gotta get that top speed, cop deed good, could I stop? Yes! Should I stop, fuck it, why do it, stay bless-ing the ears, fling ya gears into sweet churning, the thing my peers know I do wit’ this is like a treat, yearning for more you wanna hear me tear the roof off, let the sun light in, fun, might been, a lost art, wit’ him, we get dim, never, I tossed heart AKA love to all ever, if y’all sever me, A stay by ya side and still love, ‘til shove come to occur, don’t fuck wit’ discrimination, no one above, for sure, but this ain’t just a blur, we have our history to show blow, diss, you’re free? Now a days it the entitled ways, big budgets, been idol’ed by the gaze of the gig puppets, handing support to who sport the false promised, treat us good, we treat ya good, they ain’t have a pulse, I’m pissed, get ya could, would, should, out the way, just do it like Nike, but yet that another company, that so evil, wound reveal, found the devil in the ways we force labor, of course favor the saver of the working class behavior, but we be perking wit’ our ass only if we have balance. My life great, A Hype great, but he wanna bring some joy before we toy for sure around wit’ bound ends to this planet, we must vacate, our ways, power stays wit’ the peeps, get the lips memo? I’m so serious, as weary as I am, I believe in us, damn. This is what path I choose to use, the wrath of setting off my fuse, to speak from mouth and bruise, the egos wit’ what we knows is so true, I may tweak, but what I got here is fear and I’m a stay critiquing ya ass, is this where I share some upswing? Yup, bring the good to the crowd, proud and loud, got guys expressing they feelings, shout out tries of guessing ya healings, from trauma, I’m a tell you that ya route, out isn’t wrong as long as ya got the doubt, out ya brain, keep the heart and courage sane, peep the art I for age been, doing, all this time I’m pursing, inner peace, a winner cease wit’ his fire, and I know it go get this dire. Be the bigger man, let it go, see a trigger can, set it off, bro, laugh it off and make it good, I take what should be my fail, into just a set back, I make that shit to no avail, to my foes, set me in they clutches, dumb bitches I’m from stitches, broken, hoes knows they woken up a giant, defiant to the norm, I form my karm’ like this, I’m getting good back, take this! Now where was I wit’ this? Oh yes, expressenger, A Hype the messenger.

The Messenger (Prod. 493)

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Lyrics:

I Just Gotta Say

In the world that we live today

Lotta times people gotta pay

But they due date ain’t come they way

It’s gonna happen though

And will yo ass be making or from it, plummet taking mo’

Faking dough only gets ya so far, so far, so far, go glow and be a star

Yo, what the fuck is up, got a drink I suck up in my cup, I choose to use milk, natural ability, instead of going ‘head and actually killing me. The lean a deadly game, I talk the talk but also stand tall bro, walk the walk, seen a thread, the shame of abusing, and on one hand, I done panned it lame and confusing, on the other I know drugs’ll go, kill you, for real too, like the slugs’ll blow. But on the other, to shun, then done take cover, help these people get on over. Same with prison, listen, we need less division, what if ya ain’t destined for this eternal sessioned, out life, I doubt life will change but I’ll try, I Just Gotta Say how it be and still fly.

I Just Gotta Say

In the world that we live today

Lotta times people gotta pay

But they due date ain’t come they way

It’s gonna happen though

And will yo ass be making or from it, plummet taking mo’

Faking dough only gets ya so far, so far, so far, go glow and be a star

This second verse is dedicated to, people who the commoners reckon worse, the hated crew, I’m in, submerse me wit’ the crowd, autistic, don’t get it twisted, we is lit, we is loud. But we also thinkers too, and to sink us through the bullshit the stinkers do, like RFK, showing his real thoughts, fuck is wrong with me, for long I’ll be an ill, gots, to know ill is chill, not mentally, the real deal I want sent to thee, is to widen ya horizons, my neurotype let the skies in, bask in glory without prejudice, widen what I’m siding wit’, be done wit’ hiding shit, feel Hype regardless of negligence, I Just Gotta Say, I’m the hardest and did this shit.

I Just Gotta Say (Prod. wizardpem) (Mixed by DJ 20124)

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Twitter/X: therealahype1
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Music on all platforms under A Hype