[Verse 1: Yorgs, Rare & J Stark] We're back, yeah, we're back with that sound, so let's get it on Match one, scratching the soul funk then set it off Don't get your letters crossed where rappers are forever boss Never lost, not for one second, [???] [?] squad, thirty deep, popping marijuana Such a pack of charmers, spitting like a llama Smashing down your plumber, splitting like bananas So, if you want to battle, then you better sabotage us f**ing, ay, Yorgs, f**ing with Rare, you're Out of your mind, boy, splitting the sound board Your fans sound bored, but I found my sport And it's not like yours, it's on a man-sized court Damn right, we're back, free throws from downtown Bloodhounds from the pound, moving mountains and sit down While your mould hills are piss weak, spilling like a squid's beak [???], it's just another ripped cheek Not [?] for your wedding, about as [?] as feet Look like a brick, [?] by meat, s** on my teeth We're better than your average letters from a savage Dental is for f*ggots and this'll leave you shattered So settle [???] that you f** it up With a head that looks like you puckered up to an uppercut Oh, yeah, that's my boy, Jezza, brah Ready to smash jars, [?] the floor and come back hard [Hook:] Yeah-/-yeah Yeah-/-yeah Oh, yeah-/-yeah Oh-/-oh-/-yeah [Verse 2: Yorgs, Rare & J Stark] Yeah, now, AC/DC won on the tweak You got the hundred-degree heat to make your monitors popping leak It's a dog off the leash, loud, unlocking the beast now We [?] our best beach when we rock with you freaks, pow [Your/you're?] [?] preposterous, [?] I'm monstrous [?] just like Quantas is I don't really care for the fame mate, but money talks So I burn it at the bar, 'til every [?] shuts Give it up, rip it up, BBS are back Getting drunk, whaddup, we want you to scream your lungs are Coughing up blood and you're loving the junk Like a Coby Bryan slam dunk, dancing, we're handsome Oh f**, this some pig pin [?] wip sh** n***a, leave your wings split on your chicken wing Dick lips, 'scuse this, while the boys abuse this [???] Make history like Confusious but we won't in the [?] Three dope rappers pa** as Brad Pitt lookalikes It took some rhymes, see one banging [?] When kings only write to be surrounded by the [?] Moshpit sh**, to look alive, you got stepped on No one gives a f** mate, dry your eyes, [?] ‘Til you feel crooked size, scared so you're looking twice BBS and we're looking nice, put ‘em high [Hook:] Yeah-/-yeah Yeah-/-yeah Oh, yeah-/-yeah Oh-/-oh-/-yeah