Hive is a popular rap song by Earl Sweatshirt featuring Vince Staples, Casey Veggies, from the 2016 album The Epic (Mixtape). Check words to Earl Sweatshirt Hive Lyrics in English below.
Hive Lyrics – Earl Sweatshirt feat. Vince Staples, Casey Veggies
[Verse 1: Earl Sweatshirt]
Promise Heron I’ll put my fist up, after I get my dick sucked
Quick buck, maybe a gold chain
With that fuckin’ flow that’s-s so belittles, man
They tentatively tend to turn and go when I am finished
Stone cold, hardly fucking with these niggas – nigga, listen
The description doesn’t fit, if not a synonym of menace
Then forget it – in turn, these critics and interns
Admittin’ the shit spitted, just burn like six furnaces
Writ, it affixed, learnin’ them digits and simultaneously
Dispellin’ one-trick-pony myths, isn’t he?
One adolescent, fuckin’ six-nigga energy
And crawlin’ down ‘fax like a rich nigga centipede
Crack ceramic and slap a hand out of cash account
Stamp and shoutin’, thrashin’, these niggas done let the kraken out
Crack-a-lackin’ like snap, crackle, poppin’ your ammo off
Hide your face, and throw your flannels off, Sweatshirt, nigga
[Chorus: Casey Veggies & Earl Sweatshirt]
’87 rooftop, Bronson
Whippin’ hoopties, tryna boost raw chronic
Brutus in that booth, double scoop, hock, vomit up
Subrocin’ thud, knockin’ niggas teeth-loose
Bruh, I don’t fuck with no cop – rollin’ with that flow swamp
Catch me over stove top – rappin’ to that coke rock
Passionless in old Jive clothin’, with them doors wide open
Dim the floor lights, focused like it’s nothin’, ’cause it’s nothin’, bitch
[Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt]
From a city that’s recession-hit
Stress niggas could flex metal with peddle to rake pennies in
Desolate testaments, tryin’ to stay Jekyll-ish
But most niggas Hyde, and Brenda just stay pregnant
Breakin’ News: Death’s less important when the Lakers lose
It’s lead in that baby food, heads try to make it through
Fish-netted legs for them eyes that she cater to
Ride dirty as the fuckin’ sky that you prayin’ to
So here I sit, eye in the pyramid
God spit it like it’s truth serum in that beer and then
*blow* – disappear again, reappear bearded
On top of a Lear, steerin’ it into the kid’s ear again
Provider of the backdrop music
For the crack rock user and the mascot, Earl
Rawer than a skinned knee cap on a blacktop
Salivary glands, lighter fluid for the matchbox
Strikin’ – wait, wait, who the fuck you badder than?
Boy, oh boy, I’m bad as burnt – pollo off the grill and shit
Spitter of the Little Nick, nimble, rickrollin’
Bitch niggas pick litter, piff-blower, plus I pillage shit
[Chorus: Casey Veggies & Earl Sweatshirt]
’87 rooftop, Bronson
Whippin’ hoopties, tryna boost raw chronic
Brutus in that booth, double scoop, hock, vomit up
Subrocin’ thud, knockin’ niggas teeth-loose
Bruh, I don’t fuck with no cop – rollin’ with that flow swamp
Catch me over stove top – rappin’ to that coke rock
Passionless in old Jive clothin’, with them doors wide open
Dim the floor lights, focused like it’s nothin’, ’cause it’s nothin’, bitch
[Verse 3: Vince Staples]
Quit with all that tough talk
Bro, we know you niggas ain’t about shit
Come around, we gun ’em down
Bodies piled, Auschwitz
Bulletproof outfits, weapons concealed
I’m ready to kill – so test it, all my weapons is real
Sellin’ thizz, couldn’t tell ’em what the recipe is
Got ’em wishin’ that they never gave these weapons to kids
Cheers, send chills up spines of fat bitches
After shows throwin’ out sandwiches
Niggas get it how they live and I live for money
Other words, I’m gettin’ money
Lil Boy told me when it’s time to ride, they’ll send up for me
Ain’t nobody scarin’ me, niggas ain’t prepared for heat
Tools hit like pool sticks, the way I cue shit
If this was ’88, I would have signed to Ruthless
’94, would’ve had ’em walkin’ down death row
First is when the best go, hate is what the rest do
Voice inside my head told me, “Wet ’em if they test you”
So it’s Raging Waters season
That yomper big as Larry Johnson, leave your momma seedless
Everybody hard until it’s only God they seein’
Kitten soft but in they songs be trappin’ hard as Jeezy
I don’t believe it, but to each his own
I ain’t trippin’ long as I can reach the chrome
Heat your home like Southern California Gas, police pass
Tell ’em “Free Smalls, ” off Palm with the heat drawn
Strapped up long as the chief of police armed
Raised where the beasts are, north of the Beach
A couple streets past Baby J, bony niggas sprayin’ K’s
Ruger with the pork face, Jewish for the court case
Here to save you niggas from the sorbet, Coldchain
[Outro: Casey Veggies]
Like it’s nothin’, ’cause it’s nothin’, bitch
Writer(s): Earl Sweatshirt, Vince Staples, BadBadNotGood