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Lyrify.me

Mr. Saturday by The Rapper H Lyrics

Genre: rap | Year: 2012

[Intro]
My name is H man, go scream it out GOOOOO
My name is H man, go scream it out GOOOOO
My name is H man, go scream it out GOOOOO
And the beat drops like this!

[Verse 1]
Chillen on the scene, you can call me Mr. Saturday
My snap is back, I care to say, I don’t remember yesterday
Hey, but appearance is transparent
Appearance so fucking fresh, that the produce couldn’t stand it
Fans will soon demand the man, H has got a masterplan
Tickin turning round the clock, moving like a grain in sand
Ya, all the work will be rewarded
Effect, respect, we must protect the sound that we imported
Sunny day, a Saturday, haze to blaze we float away
Make a hit to break the top, surviving till I find the way
To pay, to slay, to make a grade, to rocking it on center stage
Life is like my currency; spend it till I have to pay
Straight chillen, more evil than an arch villain
More insane, than evil Kaneivel clearing tall buildings
I made the motion G, for you to notice me
Freshman year swag when I started to spit my frees
[Hook]
My name is H man, go scream it out GOOOOO
My name is H man, go scream it out GOOOOO
My name is H man, go scream it out
My name is H man, and this rap is what I’m all about
My name is H man, go scream it out GOOOOO
My name is H man, go scream it out GOOOOO
My name is H man, you can scream it out
And if its Saturday, you know the crew is going out

[Verse 2]
Talk about my origins, I’m made out of necessity
Going hard for Ithaca, I’ll do it till the death of me
Stepping to an enemy, ask if they remember me
The second they remember me, I take away their memory
Mix it in with Hennessy, chicken finger tenderly
Tend to be, I tend to be way fresher than you’ll ever be
You just an asshole, master of proctology
Feel the sound then pound it down, practice gynecology
You haters make believe, more like scientology
My mission is impossible, Tom Cruise couldn’t follow me
Straight shots of cuevo, blunts to the neck
Rager in the circles, with a buzz I come correct
This shit is getting crazy, what the fuck did I get into?
A couple homies saying, there’s some ganj for us to burn through
On the journey to top, the illest we stay spittin
Saturday a fatty free, you know its never written SO
[Hook]

[Verse 3]
Saturday night, pass me the light
I’m already high, just pass me the mic
I’m kinda hungry too, from this beat I’ll take a bite
And my cipher is complete, thanks in part to my Nikes
We just a bunch of kids, chillen in our own way
I’m-H-but-you-can call me Mr. Saturday
Ya Ya Ya Ya Ya Ya Ya Ya
And it goes like this

[Hook]