Ballied up man, bolt cutters strapped
Old black maxes incase the Jacks have me running tracks
A dozen 'laks in the stash see the job through
And opposition crews know who this yard belongs to
We on cue, the secco left his post
Near two and text from the lookout says the coasts clear
Theres no fear, just rushing as the holes cut
I'm buzzing like I'm busting through bank doors in a hold up
The smell of steel is real in the yard tucked
Between two cars under stars starting the mark up
And barred up, at the thought of the finished works
Perched on the Flinders Street bridge in the city first
Thing in the morn, all eyes drawn to the charos
Four fade filled, ill burner door to door with arrows
Trawling my pockets stained with ink blots
For fat caps and pink dots, I copped at This is it off
My man doom, so far sh**s gone to plan
But till I'm sitting home with flicks I ain't sing a song 'n' dance
Ansells on my hands, sticking a finger at the law
We bombing the system for the risk and reward
(Chorus)
f** the buff and the transits too
Where my vandal crews, bandanas up skew the camera views
Hitting them yards hard with stained hands
"Fully equipped with the Mic and the spraycan!"
f** the buff and the transits too
Where my vandal crews, bandanas up skew the camera views
Hitting them yards hard with stained hands
"Fully equipped with the Mic and the spraycan!"
An hour into the mish, it still seems safe enough
Adding doo-dads 'n' bits, "Yeah now it's shaping up."
We taking up this car, from T to B, end to end
Next Kings Way Book, that sh**'ll be the centre spread
A step ahead of the law as a call came
Cop cars crawling past, I lept from the doorframe
And crept to the treeline, out the high beams shinin'
Fiending to finish off my cut backs and key lines
Quick flash as the pigs lash, we back at work
Slap on a final as quick as these Ironlaks will squirt
Aspend white for the highlihgts to ice the cake
Bragging rights is the pride of place prize at stake
Despite late night, cop chases, raids, fights
Kid's getting their sketch tight, f** getting their grades right
If you ain't done it, you won't understand
f** a dancefloor
Track rocks is where we did the runnin' man
I grap a snap and elapse with lasting proof of
This masterpiece in all it's glory, on some Martha Cooper
Crack a brew, spark a scoob and
Raise a gla** for them All City Kings of the past 'n' future
(Chorus)
(Cut Section)