Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Honorable Mention, artist - Theory Hazit.
Date of issue: 26.01.2023
Song language: English
Honorable Mention |
«For those don’t wanna pay me, but want a verse from me |
It ain’t getting no cheaper for you baby» |
«Sleeping around on me was your choice» |
«Guess I really made it out, huh?» |
Get it right from jump |
Been swimming in my sins for months |
So if I drown, I hope you clowns eat my corpse for lunch |
While you were raising your banner, Thr3e was worthy of your slander |
Since the removal of your favorite lamb, the lambda lambda |
«Yup, Theory Hazit, we can’t stand ya |
We wouldn’t know who you are if it wasn’t for ********** |
Preachers cost too much plus he ignores us too |
So we give up and just settle for you» |
«How much you charge for a verse? How much for a beat? |
Man, maybe next time, man my pockets too weak |
But my project is free, won’t you drop it for free? |
Plus you’ll get exposed to the fans that cop it from me» |
The same ones called me heathen, but then deny it of course |
I been a thief and labeled a coward because I filed for divorce |
Satan snitchin' on me Judgment Day |
Hell, he dead wrong, I’m far worse than what the devil say |
Ha, they say they like the way I spit |
Ha, they say I’m one of the livest |
Ha, they want me on they side project |
Ha, but Theory Hazit ain’t your side chick |
Ha, I said I woke up this morning |
Ha, with some things on my mind |
Ha, feeling unappreciated |
Ha, so I wrote a little rhyme |
The reverend doctor got an AK Wetworkin' |
You roaches get the Raid spray, my weak rhyme’ll body your best verses |
On game day, I touch the crowns on self-entitled kings |
You meet the heat like Lebron when I melt your idols writing things |
This is Malcolm and Martin million and marching Sparta |
Mixed with a legion of angels surrounding sons and daughters |
Simon Peter with a desert eagle, waving it at Caesar |
So if I was you, I probably wouldn’t mention me either |
Allahu Akbar, running these rappers just like a track star |
The flow is like smack in your veins, call it the black tar |
Papa since tell me that’s evidence of a black God |
The bar’s always help me to package it in a cracked jar |
Marcus Garvey, Black Star, grind is relentless |
Put my head on a prayer rug and pray for forgiveness |
There’s a sinner in my blood so I beg for repentance |
With the breath of an angel that is ethically sinless |
So Christ-like, so devils never cross me in my eyesight |
The scrolls stay colder than eskimos eating Klondikes |
Illuminate the sun with my tongue and watch it shine bright |
Bring life after death to the ready-to-*****-die type |
Yeah, the aura of my zone crush you |
Cut your fingers off and slap you with your own knuckles |
Dag Sav, I’m like the craziest beast |
Use my pen as a bullet when I aim and release |