Singles

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Lyrics:

YEAH! YEAH! YEAH! YEAH! YEAH! YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!

Cap down, I got the rap crown, tilting haters out my vision, I’m stilting way past ‘em, my mission. Making a killing, I, taking ya feelings, my, foes aching, them hoes shaking at these spillings ya.

I don’t shoot lead, I spit it, I don’t act cute, I get it, I don’t be mute, I said it, then I meant it, yeah I sent it. I don’t be brute, well hey, I can be, what can I say, yelling be, A, hey, yo bro, this is the way.

Yo, this is my life. A Hype, got a fucking pipe. Dream it seem, but boy this is my life. I do gleam, cause this is my life. A Hype, got a fucking pipe. Dream it seem, but boy this is my life. I do gleam, cause this is my life. I’m dope boy, shout out Doe Boy, I hope they know boy.

I don’t shoot lead, I spit it, I don’t act cute, I get it, I don’t be mute, I said it, then I meant it, yeah I sent it. I don’t be brute, well hey, I can be, what can I say, yelling be, A, hey, yo bro, this is the way.

Shoutout Mark, he the spark in my fucking mind. Help a man do ran out his fucking bind. And don’t forget Dom. See he be Mike Turtle, I’m like “go circle”. These samp’s around, go make ‘em a loop. We’s champs that sound, like a fucking group. Cause we are man, we go so far man, c’mon man. Ya think ya can get wit’ us, I bet that false, let’s go waltz. Where ya fit in, then again we get in. Regardless, we wasn’t artists but we still win. Until the end my friend, cause we say, fuck what they say. Yo bro, this is the way.

I don’t shoot lead, I spit it, I don’t act cute, I get it, I don’t be mute, I said it, then I meant it, yeah I sent it. I don’t be brute, well hey, I can be, what can I say, yelling be, A, hey, yo bro, this is the way.

I don’t shoot lead, I spit it, I don’t act cute, I get it, I don’t be mute, I said it, then I meant it, yeah I sent it. I don’t be brute, well hey, I can be, what can I say, yelling be, A, hey, yo bro, this is the way.

This Is The Way (Prod. Mark Jones)

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:

(A Hype verse)

That ball is gone, A Hype hits a home run, at all ball parks, even over tall marks, my play type gets me from some bum one year flash in the pan, to hall of fame, my stash in my span, is why they call my name when you bring up crazy charisma, even believing when I be lazy, I is the, best potentially, essentially I need to heed to shit talk, but I don’t want to anger a stranger, danger can get chalk, around ya body, the sound of shotty, got ye bleeding, and I stand a fucking GOAT, what I tote succeeding. From throat I quote the fucking flame, any clucking claim, that I ain’t, ya just capping yapping, ya sucking lame. Positivity, chose to give it free, hate bait make me so livid, see, vivid fee to pay when ya go and say in ya ho’ing way, the doubt, out here we’re cray. And me too, but where I stand, see through, the flu of hate ya push, love mo’ great and hush, any trait to shush down my crown.

Phresh Hype 2 (Feat. phreshboyswag & 36julius) (Prod. nyli & xion orion)

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Music on all platforms under A Hype

Lyrics:

Fuck it, I wanna do it in one take. Speak the peak true shit of who lit, a ton make. Fake ass lies, amass cries that be bluffing. Me nothing, shit, it wrong cause yo the song something. Fuck it, my flow go alone prone. To incite, win, aight, you motherfuckers sin, right. Well so do I, and this is just the intro. I could’ve, maybe should’ve choose to let loose the instrumental.

Mother fucker I’m ill, like Lil Wayne in 08. Chill on a pill, ‘til a mother fucker go great. Every mother fucker that I know go flow straight. Quality through casualty, as you see I blow fate. Out the mother fucking window, in mo’ plays I get. Ways I bet on myself help the arrays I set. Ayo bro, it’s A Hype, the type to never ever stop. I’m tip top hip hop, coming through with a new clever bop.

Now is the time to rhyme way beyond my definition. Fly mission I’m on, I long to soar for more vision. As to, pass through the clouds as louds from the musician. Fill the crowds, ‘til the shrouds take they position. In my casket, my ass bet that I’m going places. Flowing faces gon’ be put on, haters shut on. Debaters of my craft can’t even come up with a rough draft. Mine line as funny, the pun be even having the tough laughed.

Mother fucker I’m ill, like Lil Wayne in 08. Chill on a pill, ‘til a mother fucker go great. Every mother fucker that I know go flow straight. Quality through casualty, as you see I blow fate. Out the mother fucking window, in mo’ plays I get. Ways I bet on myself help the arrays I set. Ayo bro, it’s A Hype, the type to never ever stop. I’m tip top hip hop, coming through with a new clever bop.

I sin and sang, through the mother fucking yin and yang. Y’all bring the bang, I do my mother fucking thing that rang. Heads, it dead’s the other sucka mother fucker style. While, I’m gathering, rather then a mother fucking pile. A team, the gleam is beyond the song man. It’s on man, if you wanna fight or flight for long man. Cause I ain’t aggressive but I can get excessive. Y’all all hiding, I’m siding with excessive. That’s me, gats be hitting bull shitting. Lyrically, hysterically I mean I’m getting. Much better, such getter go attitude. Is atta dude, that a rude guy scammed me, for something like a Grammy. Bitch, I itch to one day actually do a song. You is long gone but still I will through the wrong. Put my feelings aside and ride wit’ ya. Cause how I does was and still will never mother fucking get ya.

Mother fucker I’m ill, like Lil Wayne in 08. Chill on a pill, ‘til a mother fucker go great. Every mother fucker that I know go flow straight. Quality through casualty, as you see I blow fate. Out the mother fucking window, in mo’ plays I get. Ways I bet on myself help the arrays I set. Ayo bro, it’s A Hype, the type to never ever stop. I’m tip top hip hop, coming through with a new clever bop.

Big Boss Rabbit Remix (Re-Recorded)

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Music on all platforms under A Hype