album cover
Kill It
12
Hip-Hop/Rap
Kill It è stato pubblicato il 2 gennaio 2021 da Second Half Entertainment come parte dell'album Kill It - Single
album cover
Data di uscita2 gennaio 2021
EtichettaSecond Half Entertainment
Melodicità
Acousticità
Valence
Ballabilità
Energia
BPM100

Crediti

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Hookdiggy
Hookdiggy
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
William Bearyman
William Bearyman
Songwriter
Jonathan Mitchell
Jonathan Mitchell
Songwriter

Testi

Ayo Waxo this some of that early, on my way to work freestyle type stuff you know?
5:30 in the morning type lick
Thinking how I'ma get in Wax Dummy a little bit later and drop that heat
Man you know what I don’t know what we gotta do to get in the game
You know just keep working hard, keep making hot tracks
Keep doing what we do ya know
But I’ma take it to ‘em like this, yo-yo
I took a look at ProTools, got some introduction to production to commercialize my vocals
My everyday struggles who I be, busted blue-collar worker turned MC
I see the cats with the throwback oversized caps and the latest footwear laced up tryna match (I see you dog)
But I done got too old for that shit, gotta make a dignified, straight solidified hit with it (Come on with it yo)
And I can get sick with those, cats that toss pens back when they spit they flows (Freestyle cats)
Hot shit flushed on hot wax, add the hot hook hellfire hot-produced track (Woo)
And you can have potential, try to touch credentials of Hook D get diagnosed as mental (For real)
I’m slaying every mic that I touch, gotta prove that I’m worthy ‘cause my time’s almost up
I’ma kill it
Whether ight bars, sixteen, 24s on the whip, grip style kinda mean
I’ma kill it
Whether it be your broad or your boys’, I’ma desecrate them drawers have that chick making noise
I’ma kill it
Pass me a drink with some drip, minus O to the H because I ain’t tryna trip
I’ma kill it
Getcha A&R’s on the phone, I’ma shut the game down, send everybody home
Yo I’m like worth a couple million, at least lyrically
My style richer than the apex of Kennedy
I’m like transmission on a mission
I flow myself to death until there’s red on the engine
And I don’t like to fuss, too many cats eager think my life’s meager steady tryna bust
Bad rappers get nervous in the service I Carnivale MCs put they ass in the circus
With one line rhyme check ya grills, for loose tooth juice and saliva pills
This rapping ain’t no game to me, cats making hits - sound the same to me
Be reusing simple concept scripts the weather, fake hooks will make looks flip lips together
Game’s tainted, rap done went out of control and greenbacks paying out the price for souls
I’ma kill it
Whether eight bars, sixteen, 24s on the whip, grip style kinda mean
I’ma kill it
Whether it be your broad or your boys’, I’ma desecrate them drawers have that chick making noise
I’ma kill it
Pass me a drink with some drip, minus O to the H because I ain’t tryna trip
I’ma kill it
Getcha A&R’s on the phone, I’ma shut the game down, send everybody home
So who the best in this Game? Lotta posers, lotta cats with snow caps from they noses
But I’m just one chip in a cookie, Hook-dig-nious ‘diculous-type rookie
I came to disdain the fame and hit you with some new shit to change the game
And I’m not being cocky, my pull is to winkle out the bull like my name was Rocky
With plenty shows, dough, flows, and clothes, and when I come through straight hide ya hoes (Not your real hoes)
You’re scared that just maybe, I treat her like she never been treated ‘fore and that’s like a lady
I ain't gotta be the dopest, but hope this is focused enough to make somebody quote this
And I’ma be the one that’s sent, you nickel-dime MCS be the ones that spent
I’ma kill it
Whether eight bars, sixteen, 24s on the whip, grip style kinda mean
I’ma kill it
Whether it be your broad or your boys’, I’ma desecrate them drawers have that chick making noise
I’ma kill it
Pass me a drink with some drip, minus O to the H because I ain’t tryna trip
I’ma kill it
Getcha A&R’s on the phone, I’ma shut the game down, send everybody home
Written by: Jonathan Mitchell, William Bearyman
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