Get all 14 André DeSaint releases available on Bandcamp and save 15%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Murakami Pancakes, Holdin' Walls Up (ft. John Wells) prod. Rios, Count The Bodies, Saints Never Die, TESTIFY (ft. Hell'z OWN), Grain, Pt. 2 (ft. Hell'z OWN), Too Much, it's dark outside & inside too, and 6 more.
1. |
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[Verse 1: André DeSaint]
Kith and kin
You looking for them boys?
Baby, this is them
I don’t want to hear no opinions
If you ain’t pitching in
You and I are not the same
We celebrate different wins
Cashing out back to back
I just hit a lick again
Shorty hit me saying she’s tired
Of being distant friends
She’s been playing for the other team
But she might switch again
She keeps asking me if I love her
I tell her it depends
Never showing interest
Unless we’ve been talking dividends
Skipping trends
I know where to take them if they’re listening
All the way to hell and back
I’ll never take that trip again
I be talking crazy
Could give a fuck who this offends
Leave the scene clean
I’m brushing until the bristle thins
This is him
The nigga she can’t take her eyes off of
Hit you with five offers
Habitual fly talker
I see them falling off
But that’s what all them lies cost you
Jedi SB’s bitch I’m a skywalker
[Hook: André DeSaint]
Kith and kin
You looking for them boys?
Baby, this is them
I don’t want to hear no opinions
If you ain’t pitching in
You and I are not the same
We celebrate different wins
Cashing out back to back
Boy, I just hit a -
[Verse 2: Hell’z OWN]
Kith and Kin
Meeting ends with family friends
Turned to M’s
I lace up when I re-up
Then I send out every fucking stem
Cartier buffs woods 20/20 different lens
Bucket low puff woods
Hundred dollar blunt extends
I’m tired of waiting
If this was 90’s, I’d fuck Sanaa Lathan
Love & Basketball in the paint
Omar Epps too patient
Eating ackee salt-fish and dumplings
But I ain’t Jamaican
I’m off the Ave and crossing some junkies
They ain’t got no faces
Out the darkness
We been heartless expressionists not an artist
Count The Bodies starting to look like
Jeffery Dahmer’s apartment
I spent a grip on these garments
Ashing in a Hermès’ ash tray
Niggas gettin slow time
Cause they ran up on the fast way
I might just bag yo bitch
And sell her pussy on Backpage
I pray that God is not gonna judge me
Off of my past ways
The shit I rap
Gonna have my momma say “this the last days”
I got down for a minute
Now I’m back up and mad paid
[Outro: André DeSaint]
Kith and kin
You looking for them boys? Baby this is -
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2. |
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[Verse 1: André DeSaint]
Going where I’m supposed to go
Chill with all the questions
I told you what you’re supposed to know
When she ain’t with me
She’s moving coast to coast
Shorty spent her summers out in Prague
And her winters out in the Poconos
Any time I walk in the room
Watch where the focus goes
Me and you can never relate
If she ever told you “no”
OG told me ‘they’ll try to control your soul’
Low behold
I learned a lot from Sonny
I might name my son Calogero
Yeah, if there’s tension I’ma cut into it
All I see is sucker movements
I hear beats and fucking lose it
Boy I got a vision that could fuck with Kubrick
How you sound?
Bape to the ground
Like I’m Lil Wayne in Hustler Musik
Would drop a tear
But no emotions from a saint
You can’t tell me what I am
But bitch I told you what you ain’t
And I can’t focus on no hate
Cause I’m too focused on my fate
I’ll look you right into your eyes
Like ‘I’m supposed to be this great’
And this time, trust me I’ma go for mine
Niggas buy a bandana and start calling people slime
I’ma watch them each decline
While I’m plotting these designs
Bitch I’m killing
You trying to restore that feeling?
Beep my line
[Verse 2: Hell’z OWN]
Broken poet rolling O’s in a Corolla
With a Guyanese thickie
Playin Frank Ocean and Controlla
I got the TV lighting up the room
The fan needs a controller
If your girl comes over
Guaranteed her ankles on my shoulders
Knees and toes bitch
Cost a whole brick to talk this slow quick
Lock-in go sick opps can go kick rocks
And dock the whole ship
Never can you shine as a hater
Get on your own dick
And worry more about getting this paper
And stop the hoe shit
Rock and roll sniffs in the back of the disco
Packaged and getting out to the mass
Without stamp or a distro
Lacking ain’t never that
Cause I’m averaging packing a pistol
Slapping the back of the board
And swishing the rim when it hit you
[Outro: Hell’z Own]
There’s two things in this life
That we could guarantee
And one of those advise you
Not to play with me
I'm praying for my sins
But ain't no saving me
Tell that bitch to sing my song
We been moving on and on
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3. |
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[Verse 1]
[Hell’z OWN]
I got off the exit at Colonial to 75
Know we’re risking everything
Trying to get to heaven fly
[André DeSaint]
So just make sure when I die
The funeral’s televised
I told shorty
“I don’t think you could’ve picked a better guy”
[Hell’z OWN]
Deadly guys with death in their eyes
Known for selling pies
Peasant flies with shit on their lips
Known for telling lies
[André DeSaint]
But they ain’t well advised
Cause if they was, they’d be iller
But these niggas be on Twitter
Lying like they’re SZA
I think I lost count of all the times I delivered
My angels looking out
With all the signs that they give us
Lately I’m thinking bigger
If not us, then who the fuck?
These niggas doing the most
But still ain’t doing enough
[Hell’z OWN]
Steak medallion cut
Spent a pile of funds
On an Italian slut
That got Shakira’s face, Nicki’s waist
And Meg Thee Stallion’s butt
I know I’m wild and young
Pan blackened Mahi
Weed black the lungs
Back inside the trenches off benches
Still out here gettin slumped
Never talk too much
We ain’t folding
And that’s the rule of thumb
Y’all just scrape the top of the coffee cake
All collecting crumbs
Come and get indebted with credit
We’ll charge you interest once
Never tell the federals who said it
And hope you make the cut
[Verse 2]
[André DeSaint]
My thick bitch rock a messy bun
I be screaming to the sky
“Where they get me from?”
If there’s money to be made
I’ma get me some
Tiramisu in that cone
That’ll get me done
You niggas getting crumbs
The left side of your bed
Is where she texts me from
She usually brings a pre-rolled
Bring an extra one
Baddie from Barcelona
I’m on a Messi run
Young saint, I’m the blessed one
[Hell’z OWN]
Hell’z OWN, nothing less than one
Checks can come
Flexible with non-taxable income
Out here stretching funds
Bless the son
And god be letting me win
As if the test is done
You’re not the real deal
You’re just a lesson run
Catch me with thousands lounging
In the same country this Tec is from
In Sweden with a bitch that got no ass
But some big cleavage
Look like a 100 round drum is on her chest
Thumbing through a check
Bro you know why I’m blessed
Y’all niggas lookin pressed
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4. |
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[Verse 1: Hell’z OWN]
On my way to see these pearly gates
I’d rather be in Saint-Tropez
Touching a chunky check
Off a play I just made on Saturday
If it rains then it’s pouring
All this pain I’m recording
never loan out what you don’t got
and don’t consign what you ain’t holding
Texas hold 'em play my cards
No matter what I cannot fold them
Gotta soak the game up
Gotta listen to what they told him
I ain’t forfeit since
I gave up on waiting for pops to pick me up
Only thing that can pick me up
Is contract for a milly plus
Richard Mille buss
I ain’t dealing much with you silly fucks
Bills is piling up
And the first of the month is coming up
Broke niggas is broken
Real niggas bill folding
So much money out this world
How the fuck can you not be glowing
Not to boast it
But I’m tired of seeing my people
Locked and homeless
Lots of hoe shit happening at the top
And shit rolls downhill
Round real never starving
Always heartless
Cold as Arctic
Send out all my parcels
And I’ll triple everything you started
[Verse 2: André DeSaint]
Know you’ve heard a lot of crazy shit
But trust me, this the hardest
Blood all on my Basquiat
But I can let you pick the artist
Look at what you niggas started
This is a warning
Taking off your top like that shit was garnish
Trust me we ain’t missing targets
It’s get fucked or fuck the game
Bitch, I’m Mr. Marcus
Took a lot to get where I’m at
Some of that shit was heartless
Listen, they don’t carry
What I be wearing in this department
Fuck how the night ends
I’m getting off a fit regardless
This is where the bar is
You boys ain’t even coming close
Everything I hear sounds like a running joke
I know it seems like I just be chilling
But I’ve done the most
I come from humble folks
But I’ma be the one to boast
I’m the one they quote
What he wrote
Sounds like floating on 100 spokes
Proposed a toast
And told my momma that
“Your son’s a GOAT”
Let the glass touch
There ain’t nobody moving past us
I’m young Marley on his last dutch
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5. |
M3 (prod. by Rios)
02:22
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[Verse 1: Hell’z OWN]
I’m on that 1738 like I’m a Remy boy
Feel like I’m Fetty Wap
Hold your head on that federal charge
My nigga Cesar had his Bimmer
In his mom’s garage
We took the beater to the cleaners
And picked up a whole P
I thought that we was gon’ flood the streets
Until [redacted] had told me
He was moving sixty pounds a week
Out a Caddy with the baggies
With the Louie on the seats
I had a pinky ring with rubies
And some jewelry on my teeth
I had these hoes all on my trail
Used pay for [redacted] nails
And smash my other shorties
In her little Chevy Cavalier
I was scheming on the come up
Off of fraud them bands appear
But if they hit you with that gavel
Plead it guilty no appeal
Figured rap could pay the bills
I know I could make a mil
I just gotta stay consistent with the skill
And I’ma kill
Who the fuck I’m supposed to fear
If I ain’t even on that level with you niggas
Let me level with you niggas
Here’s a shovel get to digging
[Hook: Hell’z OWN]
Dig that motherfucking grave
And make it 6 feet
And when I pass you in that 1990 M3
With windows tinted
So damn dark that you can’t see me
Remember I’m just everything that you can’t be
x2
[Verse 2: André DeSaint]
Look I could never kiss and tell
With all these baddies I attract
You asking about her body count
She got me adding to her stats
Bitch I’m a giant
You’re reliant like they handed you a pack
Them niggas lying
They be trying to keep
Their fallacies in tact
I need my salary in stacks
Look what that money make a bitch do
You niggas wake up every day
And pick who you’re gonna live through
I hope they forgive you
But that ain’t what I’m into
When it’s dark times
You can’t just let them Aunt Viv you
Hate how they did you
Don’t try that shit with me
Jump off the porch
You can’t come back
Without an outcome they can see
The sweet spot between those
Ounces and a key
Smoking loud
That shit sounding like it’s Malcolm and Marie
Shut your bitch ass up
Saint shit
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6. |
Up It (prod. by Rios)
02:38
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[Verse 1: Hell’z OWN]
Drinking Vermouth in the booth
With a bitch that got a gap so big
Look like she’s missing a tooth
You’re not a leader just a follower
She’ll never listen to you
I’m clinking glass and smoking gas
Loaded mags
Tucked in between the seats of a jag
Never repeating the last
Always on digital dash
Holding my own
Not a bag I can’t get inside of and smash
I was 12 years old when I hit the kush
And rolled up outta class
I was smashing Ash
Still tardy when Miss Kilmartin said
That I would never be shit
Letter to every bitch
Tell her Hell’z OWN done dreamed it
so Hell’z OWN finna be it
Rollin in G Caprice smoking bud up
Bumping Three Six deep shit
For every risk I had to take
Was worth every fraction
In every penny
From every dollar that I ever fucking made
I’m in an Escalade up on the alley
In the Everglades
Put in work and run the road
The only way my checks was made
Cold blooded under the sun
The only thing that Florida raised
[Hook]
If I call you you best come through
I need my yesterday, today’s not cool
I’m about to up it so bitch don’t move
Said I’m about to up it so bitch don’t move
x2
[Verse 2]
When I was still on the floor
I’d only envision the ceilings
Raw dealings of cards get dealt
And you’ll eventually win it
If you ain’t folding every hand
It’ll fuck you up in a minute
You set yourself aside for blessings
I ain’t really a Christian
But tilt me head up to the sky
And never move like a victim
Ten toes down eyes wide
Keep my head on a swivel
There’s plenty niggas that’s gonna plot
And pray to god that I’m slipping
Became a trophy cause I’m up
Gotta watch for who tripping
No speculation
Only reason you gone get on
Is strictly through dedication
Rollin this medication
Keep me in this crescendo
My rapping bleeding it’s faces
I thought that I’d never make it
This still ain’t my destination
[Hook]
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7. |
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[Verse 1: André DeSaint}
Milli Vanilli SB’s with the dread laces
Tell her I got somewhere to be if the head’s basic
I’ve been moving like I caught a couple Fed cases
You’ve been moving like you wrote a couple Fed statements
Welcome to Florida
We see money, then chase it
Where everybody’s either cooling
Or they’re dead racist
Dead faces
Usually where my head space is
She’s getting real athletic with me
This bed’s spacious
Asked my OG what I needed
And he said ‘patience’
Cause I be feeling like it’s taking forever
Lost some folks and I was hoping
We could make it together
Making sure there’s dollar signs
In every basic endeavor, for real
All I wanna do is fuck and make bands
I’m in my bag
Every night me and my duffle make plans
They might lock you up
If you don’t put enough in their hands
I want it all nigga
I don’t got no uncles named Sam
[Hook: André DeSaint]
Thirty thousand tax free
And I’m a make it shake
I need… thirty thousand tax free
And I’ma make it shake
Thirty thousand tax free
I’ma make it shake
Them OGs ain’t gonna let me
Make the same mistakes
[Verse 2: Hell’z OWN]
$30K and it’s tax free
With a dirty K in the back seat
Dap me and you can tell
I’ll be right there
Where all the cash be
Lap me, never that B
Black G spinning the wheels
I know my ex see me she’s salty
That bitch probably still in her feels
I’m still in the field reaping the weeds
All of the smoke that’s coming to me
All of this money that’s coming to me
Keep it a hundred you fucking with me
I know that these niggas wanna see me dead
Or doin fed but I’m up now
Gettin this bread
And staying fed
Thirty bands tax free
Had to kill it and make it shake
Harlem shaking all at your wake
Kiss your mother all on her face
All this gas ain’t ever brake a day in my life
You’re fucking up
If you ain’t gettin paid every day of your life
This the price
It ain’t my fault I’m this nice
[Hook]
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8. |
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[Verse 1: Hell’z OWN]
I hope I ain’t at lookers poured
When catch one right to the dome
I hope the night they catch me lacking
I kiss my girl through the phone
And I tell my momma I love her
And sorry for all the troubles that I brought her
Seasons change autumn falls
Rolexes and Audemars
All I know is I’ma ball
I’m crawl my way up out the mud
And shit on all of y’all
They thought I couldn’t do it
Before I even made Dawg Eat Dawg
At The Manna wit no stamina
A lot of hoes was on my balls
Introspective shit
Deserving decadence
They ain’t made it yet
Cause of their negligence
And check your penmanship
They can cut you out these percentages
I’m in the trenches with twenty thousand
And two apprentices
I’m living testimony
That you can live through these lessons
When you keep your head on right
And you can move correctly
He’s testing your soul bro
Don’t you fold
This is just another lesson
Go get that gold boy reach your goals
And you’ll receive these blessings
Don’t take no no’s
And hit the road
And you gone reach this destiny
[Hook: Hell’z OWN]
Dawg, I do not know what state we’re in
We jumped up out that gray BM
And right to a Mercedes Benz
Praying hands
We don’t get caught up on vices
While we’re chasing M’s
Chasing dreams on road
Get a lot of tension back home
x2
[Verse 2: André DeSaint]
When I die don’t cry my dawgs
Get high my dawgs
Put your cone to the sky my dawgs
I spend every day
Trying to redesign my flaws
So when my casket drops
Make sure it’s designed by Kaws
Me not inking divine?
I couldn’t think of a time
I ain’t gonna do that shit for free
And I don’t nickel and dime
I see them trying to replicate
Like it’s a simple design
Hope there’s an angel on your shoulder
I don’t listen to mine
Yeah, lately I’ve been splitting my time
Maintaining, one hand wash the other
Gotta take care of your brother
Couple words from my mother
I tell her I got it covered
I talk to God in hopes
He tells my Granny that I love her
I wish I didn’t remember the 11th of November
But that ain’t how this cold world works
I’m just tying to play you my songs
And then make it back home
But I’ma travel the whole globe first
I put that on my dawgs
[Hook]
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André DeSaint Florida
South Florida has become known as a musical melting pot - and it shows, yet again, with rapper André DeSaint. His music is shaped by his clear affinity nostalgia and wordplay. As he is always willing to step outside of the confines of what rap fans have grown accustomed to, André keeps you guessing what his next song will sound like. ... more
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