Deante’ Hitchcock – “Callin (ft. Westside Boogie & Big K.R.I.T.)” + “All My Children” (Audio, Lyrics)

Deante’ Hitchcock unveils two songs, “Callin” featuring Westside Boogie & Big K.R.I.T., and “All My Children”. Both songs were produced by Brandon Phillips-Taylor. Listen, stream, buy, read the lyrics, mp3 download.

Deante’ Hitchcock Callin’ All My Children

Deante’ Hitchcock is runnin’ it up this year. This morning, he slid through with a brand new 2-song pack titled, Callin’ All My Children. The two-song offering are both produced by Brandon Phillips-Taylor. The first song, “Callin'” includes impressive verses from Big K.R.I.T. and Westside Boogie. The smooth production allows all three rappers to get into their lover boy bags.

In “All My Children,” Deante’ takes a moment to reflect on his growing success. His voice cracks, emphasizing the passion and hunger through all of the trials and tribulations he’s faced throughout his career. It’s an excellent showcasing of Hitchcock’s lyrical prowess and proves why he’s one of the most promising faces in Atlanta’s rap scene.

Deante’ Hitchcock – Callin’ (ft. Westside Boogie & Big K.R.I.T.) Deante’ Hitchcock – All My Children (prod. Brandon Phillips-Taylor)

Lyrics

[Intro: Latroya Brooks]
I, oh, I
I just wanna love you, oh, oh
Oh, oh, I
I, oh, I
I just wanna love you, oh, oh
Oh, oh, I

[Verse 1: Deante’ Hitchcock]
Ayy, uh, look
2012, I’m at campus, crosses and Cambridge
Just before I was famous, the strangers could tell me what name is
I knew you was dangerous from the start, but
I was so courageous, they always told me that a broken heart, ain’t nothin’ to play with
But fuck all that playin’, I’m sayin’, I’m tryna make you mine
You feel the vibe
Well, if you like this shit slow, I can take my time
But if you with it, let me know what you got in mind
‘Cause a girl that know what she want somethin’ that I can get behind
Look, dark wine and chocolate at my apartment
Drip-drop like a faucet, can’t slip, girl, I’m cautious, yeah
I can smell what she cookin’ like I’m The Rock, shit
She make it easy, askin’ how I want her on some Pac shit
She know I got options, I know she got options
We, took the precautions, it still couldn’t stop shit
Her heart was guarded, I picked that bitch like a locksmith
That’s how I know shawty gon’ drop shit

[Chorus: Deante’ Hitchcock, Jodeci, WESTSIDE BOOGIE]
When a real nigga callin’, come and talk to me
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I really want to meet you
When a real nigga callin’, can I talk to you?
Are you alone? Baby girl, pick up the phone when a real nigga callin’, I really want to know you
Wow, come and talk to me
Yeah, when a real nigga callin’, I really want to meet you
Yo, yo, can I talk to you?
Ah, shit, I really want to know you

[Verse 2: WESTSIDE BOOGIE]
You could be my [?]
Or you might be the karma for the women I did wrong
Met you up at Medusa, my heart/hope was already stoned
I been alone, it made me strong enough to carry all these wrongs
Rarely could tell you, “No”, so I hate when you call me over
Know how hard this goin’, I’m the face of the fallen soldiers
Shit, ’til I slide in like forty-five
Let the feelings die, let these ties be immortalize, woah
‘Cause every time that I reflect, you the mirror of all my flaws
Make me think you the connect to my spirit gettin’ recharged
Had to hid under the stress just to cover up all my scars, uh
I can’t disregard that we walking ’round with this guard
Plus you came from the start, I said, “I’ma be strategic”
Then I flew to the thinkin’ like, “Fuck it, I’m finna wing it”
Thinkin’ that’s when we closest, maybe we really distant and ignorants, never noticed
Probably that’s why I’m hopin’ shit, ’cause I just wanna

[Chorus: Deante’ Hitchcock, Jodeci]
When a real nigga callin’, come and talk to me
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I really want to meet you
When a real nigga callin’, can I talk to you?
Are you alone? Baby girl, pick up the phone when a real nigga callin’, I really want to know you
Wow, come and talk to me
Yeah, when a real nigga callin’, I really want to meet you
Can I talk to you?
I really want to know you

[Verse 3: Big K.R.I.T.]
She told me it was cool to crush
Drop the top and loosen up
Swingin’, bangin’, boost it up
AC blowin’, nothing cool as us
I got, I got player ways before her close up shop, I opened doors
Pull up seats, give her that meat, Bon Appétit, that’s why she chose like
Oh, ooh, oh-oh
Ain’t got to sang it, she get down, she get cryin’
No, don’t bail, I’ma ring it, we
Decoratin’ walls when we 808 bangin’
[?] and woman and I can’t woop
Scoop the screw, see the changin’ (Woo)
Candy paintin’ (Ooh)
How you want it? On the lights, keep it tight
It look, it look good, don’t it?
Like a pro, on the pole, how she, how she stood on it?
If she tryna fuel the flame, I’ma throw some wood on it
Krizzle

Deante’ Hitchcock – All My Children (prod. Brandon Phillips-Taylor)

Lyrics

[Intro]
Ooh
That shit feel crazy
Okay
Okay, okay, yeah
Shout out the guy, right here
Yeah
It’s tight, homie
For real
Ayy, ayy

[Verse]
Gettin’ here cost me a lot but this feeling is priceless
Don’t know how much life I got left but I’m livin’ it righteous
Plenty nights I spent just tryna get a grip on my vices
Knowin’ even Stevie Wonder seen a few M’s in his life, it’s
A couple things I still gotta figure out
Word to 2 Chainz, I spent a big amount
Of all my spare time registerin’ with changes, I made to deal with doubts
But when you on a different path, you gotta take a different route
I know my destination, amazing graces
Gracious for the fact I’m in spaces where God’s playin’ favorites
Maybe it’s my lack of discernment hurtin’ my transformation
Why in the fuck would I worry though like I ain’t the greatest?
Whole team standin’ in the green
This shit look like we been been mowin’ lawns
Court side at Staples, you would think that we know Lebron
At war with the stars, in here feelin’ like Obi Wan, for real
Went from dancin’ at them shows with Rami and Terrence
To my music blaring ‘cross the world
You can put us side by side but there’s no comparing
Y’all just not as good
I mean, I’m new to fatherhood but that shit been apparent
Okay, that boy got it, for real
Remember nights we couldn’t eat, now we got a few mil’
No filler on the album, cue up, how does it feel?
They tryna find my Achilles, I want that house on the hill
I want it all
Shit, they want the old me
Shit is funny ’cause niggas don’t even know me
Bein’ real, I was scared to put this out lowkey
‘Til a nigga who ain’t had hoes tried to ho me
He told me y’all wouldn’t want an album full of love songs
Why? When it’s somethin’ everybody feel
And I’d much rather talk ’bout how I love these hoes then to spend a whole album tryna tell you that I’m real
So I ain’t gangsta as a Gucci or Thugga, boy
That Drac’ on me though Certified Lover Boy
Ants can’t tell bees how to make no honey
So a broke nigga can’t tell me how to make no money
How I’m not gon’ make love songs with a bitch this bad?
How hatin’ not gon’ fuel me up when this shit is gas, shawty?
If I said that I ain’t care I’d be lyin’
But how somebody with no heart mad ’cause I’m bearin’ mine?
So, fuck you to the people who just couldn’t see it
And fuck me for the moments when I was here agreein’
Imposter syndrome just a part of bein’ genius
I’m so fire sometimes, I can’t even believe it
Seein’ this shit from the other side
How folks brown nose for the green, make me wish I was color blind
I got signed and my mother cried like my brother died
Livin’ out my dreams and I ain’t even close my eyes
Don’t rush this shit, nigga, trust this shit, motherfuck a risk
Done lolli gaggin’, I popped without all the sucka shit
Even though this game high stakes, I can’t get enough of it
That’s why I do a job well done, no matter how tough it get
Your wildest dream, just another check on my bucket list
Live your life, my nigga, you can’t be scared to
I got some partners who died that never got the chance
And know some others who still livin’ that’s dead too
I picked up a pencil, look where it led me
Out here breakin’ records like I’m Greg Street
Knew when I started, back when my hair was parted up like the Red Sea
With the words I was gon’ excel, fuck a spread sheet
I can’t do no 9 to 5, niggas ain’t payin’
Enough to feed my soul, I ain’t playin’
Dropped out of school, boy, my family cued up them blank faces
But the only statements I care ’bout right now is bank statements
Life is just a stage, on which we make a wage
The actors underpaid, I mean, but hey, guess that’s just the price of fame
The director stay the same but over time the cast will change
So break a leg or you’ll get cast again, my nigga
‘Cause God just someone that I ain’t met yet
And a long life is just a death threat
So I’ma love, and fuck it, I’ma live
And I’ma give it all ’til it’s nothin’ left to give
Put that on my kid (Kid, kid, kid)