Hive
Earl Sweatshirt Lyrics


Jump to: Overall Meaning | Line by Line Meaning

Promise Heron I'll put my fist up after I get my dick sucked
Quick buck, maybe a gold chain
With that fucking flow that s-s-so belittles men
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 admitting the shit spit
It just burn like six furnaces writ it


It affixed learning them digits, and simultaneously
"Dispelling one-trick-pony myths, isn't he?"
One adolescent, fucking six-nigga energy
And crawling down fax like a rich nigga centipede
Crack ceramic and slap a hand out of cash account
Stamp and shouting, thrashing, 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
(Sweatshirt, nigga)

'87 roof top, Bronson
Whipping hoopties tryna boost raw chronic
(Brutus in that booth, double scoop, hock vomit up)
(Sub rocking, thud knocking niggas teeth loose)
Bruh, I don't fuck with no cop
(Rolling with that flow swamp)
Catch me over stove top
(Rapping to that coke rock)
(Passionless in old Jive clothing
With them doors wide open)
(Dim the floor lights, focused)
Like it's nothing, cause it's nothing, bitch

From a city that's recession-hit
With stress niggas could flex metal with, peddle to rake pennies in
Desolate testaments trying to stay Jekyll-ish
But most niggas Hyde, and Brenda just stay pregnant
Breaking news: death's less important when the Lakers lose
There'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 fucking sky that you praying to
So here I sit, eye in the pyramid
God spit it like it's truth serum in that beer and then
Disappear again, reappear bearded
On top of a lear, steering it into the kids' ear again
Provider of the backdrop music
For the crack rock user and the mascot, Earl
Rawer than the skinned knee cap on the blacktop
Salivary glands, lighter fluid for the matchbox
Striking, 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, rickrolling
Bitch niggas pick litter, piff-blower, plus I pillage shit

'87 roof top, Bronson
Whipping hoopties tryna boost raw chronic
(Brutus in that booth, double scoop, hock vomit up)
(Sub rocking, thud knocking niggas teeth loose)
Bruh, I don't fuck with no cop
(Rolling with that flow swamp)
Catch me over stove top
(Rapping to that coke rock)
(Passionless in old Jive clothing
With them doors wide open)
(Dim the floor lights, focused)
Like it's nothing, cause it's nothing, bitch

Quit with all that tough talk, bruh, 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
Selling thizz, couldn't tell him what the recipe is
Got 'em wishing that they never gave these weapons to kids, cheers
Send chills up spines of fat bitches after
Shows throwing out sandwiches, niggas get it how they
Live and I live for money, other words, I'm getting money
Little boy told me when it's time to ride, they'll send them for me
Ain't nobody scaring 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
Nine-four, would've had them walking 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 seeing
Kittens soft but in they songs be trapping hard as Jeezy, I don't believe it
But to each his own, I ain't tripping 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 for police armed
Raised where the beasts are, north of the Beach
A couple streets past Baby J, bony niggas spraying Ks
Ruger with the pork face, Jewish for the court case
Here to save you niggas from the sorbet, Coldchain


Like it's nothing, cause it's nothing, bitch

Overall Meaning

The song "Hive" by Earl Sweatshirt reflects his poetic and daring style of rapping. The lyrics showcase his seemingly effortless wordplay and creative metaphors. The opening lines, "Promise Heron I'll put my fist up after I get my dick sucked, quick buck, maybe a gold chain," reveal a character who is somewhat vulgar and money-driven. However, it also hints at the idea that he is prepared to take whatever risks are necessary to reach his goal without a care for social norms or propriety. The use of metaphor continues throughout the song, with lines like "One adolescent, fucking six-nigga energy" and "Rawer than the skinned knee cap on the blacktop," which coalesce to create a vivid image of an individual who is both menacing and impressive.


The middle section of the song explores the rap scene in a recession-hit city and the social issues prevalent within it. There is a sense of frustration with the situation, with lyrics referencing drug addiction, poverty, and unwanted pregnancies. The line, "Breaking news: death's less important when the Lakers lose," indicates a sense of irony and apathy towards the bigger issues of life. The latter part of the lyrics is a showcase of Earl Sweatshirt's bravado and confidence in himself. The lines, "Everybody hard until it's only God they seeing" and "Here to save you niggas from the sorbet" highlight the sense of superiority that Earl has over his contemporaries.


Overall, the song "Hive" is a reflection of Earl Sweatshirt's unique style. The lyrics display his ability to create vivid images with words and metaphors while also indicating his social awareness and fearless attitude.


Line by Line Meaning

Promise Heron I'll put my fist up after I get my dick sucked
I'll celebrate with my friends after hooking up with a girl


Quick buck, maybe a gold chain
I can earn money easily and buy material things


With that fucking flow that s-s-so belittles men
My rap flow is so good that it makes other men feel inferior


They tentatively tend to turn and go when I am finished
People are intimidated by me and avoid me when I'm done rapping


Stone cold, hardly fucking with these niggas, nigga listen
I am emotionally detached and don't care about other rappers


The description doesn't fit, if not a synonym of menace, then forget it
I don't fit into any single category, but if I had to choose, it would be 'menace'


In turn, these critics and interns admitting the shit spit
Even my harshest critics and interns have to admit that my rhymes are great


It just burn like six furnaces writ it
My rhymes are so hot, they burn like six furnaces


It affixed learning them digits, and simultaneously
I'm making money from this music while also learning new skills


"Dispelling one-trick-pony myths, isn't he?"
People used to think I was a one-trick-pony, but now they know better


One adolescent, fucking six-nigga energy
I'm still young, but I have the energy of six grown men


And crawling down fax like a rich nigga centipede
I'm making my way to success slowly, like a rich centipede


Crack ceramic and slap a hand out of cash account
I'm not afraid to break things and take people's money


Stamp and shouting, thrashing, these niggas done let the Kraken out
People mess with me at their own risk, because I am like the Kraken


Crack-a-lackin', like snap, crackle, poppin' your ammo off
I'm causing chaos, like rice crispies popping in a bowl


Hide your face, and throw your flannels off, Sweatshirt, nigga
People should be afraid when they see me coming, because I'm Earl Sweatshirt


('87 roof top, Bronson Whipping hoopties tryna boost raw chronic (Brutus in that booth, double scoop, hock vomit up) (Sub rocking, thud knocking niggas teeth loose)
I used to cruise around in an '87 car trying to find weed, and when I rap, it's powerful enough to knock someone's teeth out


Bruh, I don't fuck with no cop (Rolling with that flow swamp) Catch me over stove top (Rapping to that coke rock) (Passionless in old Jive clothing With them doors wide open) (Dim the floor lights, focused) Like it's nothing, cause it's nothing, bitch
I'm not a snitch, I make music while cooking drugs and wearing old clothes, I'm focused on my work, and I don't care about anything else


From a city that's recession-hit With stress niggas could flex metal with, peddle to rake pennies in Desolate testaments trying to stay Jekyll-ish But most niggas Hyde, and Brenda just stay pregnant
I come from a poor city with a lot of problems, some people turn to crime to make money, but others try to stay positive, even though it's hard


Breaking news: death's less important when the Lakers lose There'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 fucking sky that you praying to
People care more about sports than real problems like poisoned baby food, women use their bodies to get ahead, and people live dangerous lives


So here I sit, eye in the pyramid God spit it like it's truth serum in that beer and then Disappear again, reappear bearded On top of a lear, steering it into the kids' ear again
I'm like a god, speaking the truth and vanishing, but then reappearing with more powerful rhymes that people can't ignore


Provider of the backdrop music For the crack rock user and the mascot, Earl Rawer than the skinned knee cap on the blacktop Salivary glands, lighter fluid for the matchbox Striking, wait, wait, who the fuck you badder than?
My beats are the soundtrack for drug users and I am the mascot for this lifestyle, my rhymes are as raw as a skinned knee, I get people fired up like a match


Boy oh boy, I'm bad as burnt pollo off the grill and shit Spitter of the Little Nick, nimble, rickrolling Bitch niggas pick litter, piff-blower, plus I pillage shit
I am so badass, it's like chicken on the grill, I can rap fast and maneuver around easily, I don't care about the small details, I just want to get everything I can


Quit with all that tough talk, bruh, 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
Stop talking tough, because we know you aren't really about it, if you come around, we will mow you down and leave you in a pile, we are ready to kill and our weapons are real


Selling thizz, couldn't tell him what the recipe is Got 'em wishing that they never gave these weapons to kids, cheers
I'm selling drugs and people don't know the recipe, they regret giving kids access to these dangerous items


Send chills up spines of fat bitches after Shows throwing out sandwiches, niggas get it how they Live and I live for money, other words, I'm getting money Little boy told me when it's time to ride, they'll send them for me Ain't nobody scaring me, niggas ain't prepared for heat
My music gets people excited, I throw sandwiches at shows, people do what they can to survive and I am doing the same, someone promised to have my back when things get rough, nobody intimidates me, and people don't know what to expect when they mess with me


Tools hit like pool sticks, the way I cue shit If this was '88, I would have signed to Ruthless Nine-four, would've had them walking down Death Row First is when the best go, hate is what the rest do
My weapons hit hard, like a pool stick hits a cue ball, if I had been around in the 80s, I would have signed with a big record label, people would have loved my music, and I know that haters will always exist


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 seeing
I have a voice in my head that tells me to attack anyone who challenges me, it's like a water park is open for violence, I am as strong as a basketball player and I will leave someone's mother alone, people act tough until they are close to dying


Kittens soft but in they songs be trapping hard as Jeezy, I don't believe it But to each his own, I ain't tripping 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
Some people act tough in their music, but it's not believable to me, I'm fine as long as I can have my weapon, my presence is powerful like gas, even police are afraid of me, so I say 'Free Smalls' and I'm ready to fight


Strapped up long as the chief for police armed Raised where the beasts are, north of the Beach A couple streets past Baby J, bony niggas spraying Ks Ruger with the pork face, Jewish for the court case Here to save you niggas from the sorbet, Coldchain
I am always armed, just like the police chief, I grew up in a tough area, where people are dangerous, I know gangsters who are always shooting, I have a gun with a pig on it (to show disrespect for the police), I am here to protect people from the police and the life of crime




Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Written by: Matthew Martin, Thebe Kgositsile, Casey Jones, Vince Staples

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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Most interesting comments from YouTube:

bacon

ratings for “Hive.”
-Beat: 20
-Vince: 20
-Casey: 30
-Earl: 30
————————
OVERALL
100/100
closing thoughts 💭
-He does it again! Track 5 off of Earl Sweatshirt’s first (studio) album, “Doris” Hive is a godly track, the features hit just right, Earl’s lyricism is the same as always, unpredictable but addictive. I can’t stop listening!



Ohlordy 456

Lyrics:

[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

[Hook: 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

[Hook: 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 'cause 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



All comments from YouTube:

fiNESS Casting

Earl goes insane on this. Everybody talking about Vince but Earls verse is impressive as hell

victor_autopilotliving

His verses are always top tier

Aaron's Spirit Guide

This is dead ass the song I found earl on 8-9 years ago lmao. YouTube brought me back tonight. Woowoot

PooNagoo

I immediately disregard anyone who says dumb shit like “Vince murderer earl on this”. Just look at what Earl talked about vs Vince’s first few lines about guns and that stupid Auschwitz’s line. Then he continues talking about what every other rapper does. It’s not unique at all. Ppl can say whatever they want about earl, but they can never says he’s not unique hah and I don’t even dislike Vince. Jus sayin

Dick Graven

Vince slayed Earl on this

Renel Taylor

Yooooo fr this was another dupe track from another dupe fam. Spit it spit it rip it out out 😎👍🏾🤟🏾🖖🏾✌🏾👍🏾💥

55 More Replies...

Jeffery Biggleton

Earl sounds like his mom makes him rap and it still sounds fire

Michael Anderson

Perfect description

KissOff

Lol

Chris M

😂

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