THIS IS HG
produced by Tornts
feat. Bigfoot, Ciecmate, Billy Bunks, Murky, Diem
( HOOK x2 )
This is HG, no peace all war cunt cease ya folklore we bringing your downfall.
This is HG, no fakes no games no one flow the same Hired Goons know the name.
BIGFOOT: We don't give a fuck about your twitter followers or choreographers we're hired goons slang tycoons bar reservoir bottomless wax crate magnate rappers aint stopping us we don't even listen to your emo writtens you see our mission is complete demolition I'm an oil spill shifting through your fragile ecosystem and you're just another one of many millions of organisms swimming through the shit what a pitiful existence.
CIECMATE: Aint no questioning, I takes the best of em & make a mess of em, messing with Ciecmate's the death of em, they're less than men. I'm getting over you aint getting in, so notify your next of kin you know we hype like Ephedryn, giants like the Nephalim silence with your pestering, and fake pleas too coz HG crew's def to them, peace to my BTE bretheren, deading em, on some Nikola Tesla shit... Ya'll are Edison.
TORNTS: Drop my name in a convo better watch ya mouth, I live for this shit n spit for the fuckin louts, in the spots where ya nightmares are unspooling I'm Valhalla bound off the glory n looting, nothin to prove, whole lot to extort, export you , vessels into a dead port, imitators copy up, so pathetic, no heart cuz, crying for a field medic.
( REPEAT HOOK )
BILLY BUNKS: I shit on your meal and piss on your garnish, sodden the leaves bon appetit roll up my sleeves then sink on a barmat. HG, you rappers are paisley patterned and margarets, snack on a parsnip you muppets, your Frank Koz i'm more rank cos that whore had all that snoz, i hit it regardless, you hid in the grass and piss in your garments, i'm drunken again cos i could afford it, heard they're packing a morgue out, shout out to all you aspiring corpses.
MURKY: Hired goons firepower to wipe out your platoon your entire crew suck dick and die soon, we've been getting fuckin sick and tired of you, your deadline to leave town expired at noon, i'd get to hopping cuz, pull them stockings up you don't want us to surround posse up and come door knocking blood, all you've ever done is copy us, what come rougher than a HG posse cut.
DIEM: Living per diem's had me chasing them dollars, notes change in my wallet, feel strange when you own them gold chains and don't floss 'em, one life one shot so make something of it, not your piece of cake so break something off it, it's always been basic logic, if it aint true then say nothing of it.
Ezra Allen’s new album “Metamorphosis” rides the line between spoken word and hip-hop over five emotion-rich songs. Bandcamp New & Notable Sep 29, 2018