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Exski

Street Sweeper (prod. baeside)

(23-07-2023)
babe im doing you a favor, trust me
i’m finally gonna make you proud
if you look real hard you can see me spinning out, 
spinning out
while i run
you into the ground
wonder if you listen to the sound

runner (demo)

produced recorded and engineered by Outerworlds Global

Day N Nite

Paralyzed (Kinsei)

b3side m3 prod zhap.mp3 [444 exclusive]

Lyrics:

(A Hype verse)

Yurrr, for sure, I’m in ya area, rhyming hysteria. Shit, it close to Halloween, I’m scaring ya, with off the grid type of Hype, pop the lid off the snipe. Now there’s terror in the scenario, yo. Or I can make it more PG like Trick Or Treat. For sure, I spur on when I pick a Tweet. Responses wild, far from mild, this is my style. Yurrr, all up in the air baby. Purrr, he boo’d up, Ella Mai baby. The cure to my insecure ness is less stress. How I stay a stellar slay in a world where, look at they! Ass, they took my dog and now I’m gassed. But looking through the fog I found my rebound, Bella Mae. I went from the cellar place to slew this clever ace. Like I’m a smart pitcher, A Hype a part bitcher. But not this time, I’m up in my element. Fake it ‘til ya make it? Shit, I’m telling it. How it is, the kids need a role model. And I’m not gon’ be cracking an Ol’ E, cold bottle. I’m gon’ be me and stay clean. Yurrr, for sure. I’m pure like water before humans came. Yet a blur in the grand land scheme of thangs. New plans are needed, even if few fans have heeded to it, this is that true shit, what the fuck. I just talk to talk, well that’s wassup. And like Fat Joe, all the way up. So take that yo, I’m a stay up. And to my people yelling “Yurrr”. I’m all ready right “hereee”. Let me make this “clearrr”. I’m for sure, Yurrr.

YURRR (with Yokai) (Prod. Mark Jones)

Lyrics:

(A Hype verse)

I feel like King James, “Maybe It’s Me”, the deal up in this thing is lames playing the grief card, it’s been just a brief hard, hey we can see, for all us life cold and hot, heat leaving teeth charred. Fold or not, what do you got in yo system? Ask who the best, bitch, I is him! I gets in, on the shit’s I be blitzin’, sacking like Myles Garrett, my styles apparent. Back in this bitch again, digging you a ditch or penitentiary to sit in, why was you hittin’, me like I be quittin’, I don’t fit in, but I drippin’, rippin’ this shit forever, not just a blip in the time, sure severing the never been, you can do it, clipping how I’m cut different, razor sharp vision, my mission to blaze a track apart and more than start, yup, I’ve done it, “Maybe It’s Me” though, who flung that ego to the sun glow, thinking it circulate around me, a jerk ya hate who be sounding boast, well to me and Mick I toast, see the pic I post, fab even in drab, I’m ghost.

Maybe It's Me (Feat. King Smoke) (Prod. feardorian)

Lyrics:

(eating sandwiches is said a bunch)

Whether clickin’ wit’ chicken, begging for egg and, etc, sandwiches is bliss filled, I smiled as I taste next one, can’t just bless one, gotta trust that this fun ain’t done, fuck getting fat, I’ll gladly let me pad the belly ‘til he scat in his grave, that I will save for a grim day, but as of here I pass no fear, food is the mood, that clear? Him say, he want a daunting task, ask him for his order, he get a chicken wit’ the egg and more he sure be pickin’. I don’t border going over my money I have to spend, I floor the gas and this will make more than a whistle out my ass, when I poop it out, my group has doubt about this shit I get, I’ll bet my life on this hype I make from eating what they bake, fuck it add cake, but this is fake, like the food on the menu, I’m into artificial products, my heart’ll miss you when I die, fucks given, no? I had a tad of good life, should knife be given after living, autopsy show I’m driven, to death and end of breath, by thy food I glued my mood to dude, blew rude as the notion that you gave as ya try to save my motion from being sick, I trick me into eating it, not even heating shit, I believe in beating it, treating it like me, a world so cold, cold pizza, bold meats I digest, I try, just stick wit’ it now, how ‘bout I spit out my order, are you ready steady, bet he get the life span shorter. Just by sniffing it, miffed and shit, you may be, hey we whiffed a bit, with what? Show us the surplus ya got! I got two loaf of bread to go ‘head and stack it, in between, can we bean size up and make a racket, yup? Brown beans and greens of beans on item? By him it okay, go spray that on the middle, it’ll, help my self and health with stealth, kill me but what a thrill be, it anyway, I eat chicken and egg, lickin’ ya feet I beg, meet it as I peg a lettuce order to the thang, my daughter I can’t make, once this kill me and I will be, out of commission to help bake, division of ...

(there is a hook in between)

(Peter Griffin)

Huge Ass Sandwich (Prod. Mike Turtle)

ꪱׁׅᥣׁׅ֪ᥣׁׅ֪υׁׅ ꩇׁׅ݊ꪱׁׅꪀׁׅɑׁׅ֮tׁׅꪱׁׅ◬

Lyrics:

Ever since a young boy he had to Chase Young. Put that work in ‘til his face scrunched. Never wince at the pain cause there more to gain. It was here in Maryland where he sure to train. Get it clear? The picture I’m unfolding? About this dude so cold and bold in his craft, 2nd pick of the draft, straight outta THE Ohio State, bravado great. I reckon sick days is what most will take, a boast the ill make is they ill but not sick, toxic manipulating is not what we do, no hating as well, hell we evaporate and dap our mate, God who he follows, Chase Young, this case stung, for hollow peeps, fuck it, heaps of thick dudes, O Line ain’t go fine when he get the stick through. It’s a sack, shit’s so wack, the left tackle is attacking his coach as he says, “please! don’t get stepped on like a roach!” but really it clearly hard to stop, plus a guard he drop. Chase Young, Washington football, slashing in the gridiron, the root of all we bid on. As sport fans, fuck it, Prize Picks, some size chicks up by making the money stuff. Haha, Chase Young, this a bass strung banger in the car, Chase Young put in that bar work, lifting weights, shifting freights, he can carry a various amount of delirious cargo, far o’vo’ what you can, want Froot Loops delivered, cause of Toucan Sam? Damn, he will deliver, the giver of this I’m knowing as I’m flowing like a river, they may quiver and shiver, when they hear about how Commanders went Commando, lost it all, like the god damn Spurs went south, ‘cept you left the glory day way back to stay wack after Joe Gibbs, no dibs on 1st for Joe Burrow, now you trade ya spade so yo, no hurdle to climb when ya silent like a mime not making good noise, you should voice up now that Dan Sydner whiner stuff is gone forever ever long, but Chase in San Fran-Cisco, got the fans dancing like disco. But now a free agent, we patiently, waiting to see where he great in the D, next. This is a flex, with just one text the deal start. I think 10 milli a year, really it clear in my good ol’ silly heart. Yep.

Chase Young Freestyle (Prod. Roxby)

could it be that a new era of A Hype is upon us ... ?

AIRPODS

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)

Instagram: therealahype
Twitter: therealahype1

YURRR (with Yokai) (Prod. Mark Jones)

A Hype

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