H.Y.P.E.

Hail Youth Praise Elan The thought that got me all hype, the drop feel like the A-Bomb Drop it like its napalm, tell em all to Stay Calm Never stopped my grind and now they gassin me like Radon So if you're talking shit- I don't see you through my Raybans I'm genuine and down to Earth, the fuck you got to hate on? They fuck you tryna play on? You must not wanna wait long Steady packin weight on every single time I make songs Flame on. You know I got them Fantastic Four Drive and strength, flow and bars steady jam-packin morgues That's four more than any of these backpackin bores Steady fast-trackin forth with every back crackin chord Take a breath and look around at every mass grabbin whore All you see is skinny jeans and fuckin snap-backs galore All you hear is watered down bull crap, matador I'm about to drop the hammer like a slap-happy Thor Brad's at the door steady pushin for the cashflow Sellin cheap subscriptions of my foot up in your asshole What more could you ask for? I spit crack, I'm that dope Bars are guns and ammo, thats a motherfucking fact, bro I'm just tryna find some truth in all the madness Like why the hell its cool to be all stupid, young and classless My view seems so imagined I hope you can understand it And when it's all said and done I hope you knew me for my passion ---------------------- They want me to drop heavy rhymes. They expect better every time Who are they to expect it? Nah. Who am I to reject it This curse is ours for the bearin. The good die young and the evil inherit This world is ours for the taking, no way to deny it It takes a true soul to make it, and an empty heart to buy it The truth exists, but I need to find myself first Time is irrelevant, I'm just tryna live forever ----------------------- Fuck that I'mma go in, hit em with the flow and put a motherfucker through the motions Spit a little venom in a minute but I bet I'm never really gonna get it all goin Rippin it open, a lyrical poet, the drivel so potent Grippin a mic can't nobody control him this time is a-tickin I'm tickin explodin, UH Son of God, son of Sam. Sold his soul, 100 Grand Dollars unmarked, rubberband. What part don't you understand? You're slaving for another man. All victim to some fuckin plan To prey upon the weak, the meek inherit Earth and run the land Thunder slams through valleys, half these people get they pray on The other half just prey on life, living young like c'est la- Vie. Our time is comin it won't matter if you hang on For now we're alive, livin. Hail Youth Praise Elan HAIL YOUTH PRAISE ELAN