Hardo – Hurry Up & Buy (ft. J.I.D) (Audio, Lyrics, Lyric Video, Video)

Listen, Buy, Stream, Mp3 Download, Watch video & lyric video and read the lyrics to “Hurry Up & Buy” by Hardo featuring J.I.D. The song was produced by Christo.

Hardo Hurry Up & Buy (ft. J.i.d)

Hardo might be one of the game’s best kept-secrets right now, though his new album Days Inn might go a long way in bringing more attention to the Pittsburgh lyricist. While the album is lined with hard-hitting tracks, one of the notable highlights arrives with “Hurry Up And Buy,” a collaboration with Dreamville’s own J.I.D — in fine form, as expected. Taking to a slick guitar-driven instrumental from Christo, the mind who laced some DiCaprio 2 highlights, Hardo sets it off with a scathing verse.

“Listen, I get it details, got pills, no D12,” he raps, weaving his bars in a relentless fashion. “I send the Gs mail, some hit the e-mail, got coke on presale.” J.I.D. picks up where Hardo left off, matching his intensity with a dexterous and menacing verse. “Bangin’ that thing, thing til my wrist sprained, maintain, ring janglin’, janglin’ / When I swing the thing she like Danke schön,” he spits, his linguistics aquatic. “Pad pen all the pain, rap game daddy-daughter day.”

Hardo – Hurry Up & Buy (ft. J.I.D) (prod. Christo)

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Lyrics

[Intro]
Christo
Man, almost that shit I said, don’t let me do that shit again
Trap
Real trap nigga comin’ through your speakers, you hear me

[Verse 1: Hardo]
It’s ’bout money, nigga, say less
Choppers that spray vest, killers that stay fresh
My shoes from Saks Fifth, them bricks, I pay less
My hoes got access, I’m from those spots, where’s bro action
Break work infractions, I gotta get it, no relaxin’
Listen, I get it details, got pills, no D12
I send the Gs mail, some hit the e-mail, got coke on presale
Wait seen the plug at, I stretch the female, then sell for retail
A nigga really got them truckloads, ain’t got no CLs
But got a CLS, yes, but got them VVS, yes (That’s right)
But Hell no, I ain’t impressed
I just like the baguettes, I just like the Ralex
I just like to upset all these niggas that’s hatin’
Drive by on their set
I count with calluses, I’m sick, dialysis
Ain’t with the coward shit, I got the Fowlers, bitch
I get a flower, shit
I’m havin’ power trips, I’m up like towers, bitch
My drip need towels for this
I put in miles for this, the beat got cows for this
That’s all from [?] shit, on bad money niggas
I guess they counterfeit, listen
I keep that mask on me nigga, that’s my counterfeit
Pull up in that Challenger ’bout challengers, that’s my analysis
Hold up, I’m flickin’ ashes in the ashtray
And I asked ’em where Ash lay, y’all ain’t call since the last day
Now she sendin’ sad face, gettin’ money the fast way
Grindin’ hard to the last day, I run it up like its leg day, nigga

[Chorus: JID]
Yeah, alright
Gimme all that cash, nigga, hurry up and buy
Put it in the bags, bricks fallin’ out the sky
I can make that money fly, that’s a bird
Cock a nine, if you heard you can’t die, you concur (Uh, ah, shit, yeah)
Gimme all that cash, nigga, hurry up and buy
Put it in the bag, this shit fallin’ out the sky
I can make that money fly, that’s a bird
Cock a nine, if you heard you can’t die, you concur

[Verse 2: JID]
Okay, comin’ for the cheddar ’til I’m dead or I get a war wound
Weather the storm, get an umbrella ’cause it’s rainin’
Pussy cats and dog food, and the catch is comin’ for y’all foods
Accelerate, hit the RT, R2-D2
School of you niggas, the one, two, plus you is Three Stooges
Word to my mucus, I spill juices
‘Bout to cop a noose ’cause I’m already strange fruit, and
If my diamonds is twinklin’ then they think I ain’t dangerous
Hangman, hangin’ there, bang, bang, bangin’ that thing, thing
‘Til my wrist sprained, maintain, ring janglin’, janglin’
When I swing the thing she like “Danke schön”
Pen pad pen all the pain, rap game daddy-daughter day
And the real niggas all goin’ away ’til I came in with the party favors
All the flavors, modern day, super gamma with the ultra rays
New Atlanta for you monkey niggas, got two banana clips, fuck a fade
Don’t tempt me, gassed up
But I run empty with the five wired and the .45 on three wires, man

[Chorus: JID]
Yeah, alright
Gimme all that cash, nigga, hurry up and buy
Put it in the bags, bricks falln’ out the sky
I can make that money fly, that’s a bird
Cock a nine, if you heard you can’t die, you concur