Yo I′m sitting in my home yard, checking out some pics of my own art

Never been docile, four panels this week it's hardly been a slow start

But fathom what was next there was no chanceI hear my blower go so I answer my bro′s like

'Yo do you wanna go Grove Park, I heard it's a dope yard′

′And there is no guards, plus there is a hole marked'

′So getting caught man, I swear theres like no chance'

′Opportunities like these g, they won't last′

I put down the phone slow but I walked fast

Holding my tins, dust them crisply

Take three shots of whiskey swiftly

The picky ones station, bunk train slickly

No tickets bro, yo so don't ever take the mickey

Go from Herne Hill to Bricky then onwards to Vicky

Got there in 'bout a jiffy

Step off and link them quickly

Next to the freshest of chippy′s

Get some chicken from the chippy then I step on with the mission

At the time it was the bestest decision

We wanted rep and recognition

We got the G, R, A, double F, I, T, I

Bust your fist in the sky

Cause graffiti won′t die and that's no lie

We got the G, R, A, double F, I, T, I

Bust your fist in the sky

Cause graffiti won′t die and that's no lie

We got the G, R, A, double F, I, T, I

Bust your fist in the sky

We switch the platform, train screeches in like nails on a black board

Step up on the train and catch blams on the back door

These are the black marker stains that your fams are taxed for

Yo but fuck the tax man I save my cash for a fat draw

10 pints of Stella and a cab to my girl′s door

But that's another night we′re on for the graff war

Busting out the styles from the London to retro

Holding my tins in a bag set from Tesco

No cans take pics

Face is wrapped with a vest yo

I'm on the tracks, see the train get my paint out

Clocked in the first two minutes cause its hot now

They're screaming ′Best stop now, before we let the dogs out′

One clown gets gripped, I'm like get the fuck out or duck down

It′s all going nuts now, don't wanna get caught or get munched by a mutts mouth

One mate ducks down and hides like no ones there

BTP mans come and clocks with a potent stare

Don′t spot him but see's me duck like I′m Bucky O'Hare

Til I'm fucking scarce

We got the G, R, A, double F, I, T, I

Bust your fist in the sky

Cause graffiti won′t die and that′s no lie

We got the G, R, A, double F, I, T, I

Bust your fist in the sky

Cause graffiti won't die and that′s no lie

We got the G, R, A, double F, I, T, I

Bust your fist in the sky

I see sick fences, I climb six feet and slip I'm at my whit′s end

Spike in the limb, I rip it off then I descend down the other side of the fence

To get rid of dem, BTP men that are militant

He clocks a gate bro

So I'm running up as fast as I can to the main road

I strain and I ache heal but still I′ve got pace bro

And love for this dark art

Straight in the road and nearly hit by a fast car

I'm running, bruv I'm running, I don′t know these ends

But I′m running

I feel like my lucks up and I need to conjure suttin

So I dust to a block of flats see the doors locked

And im like fuck bruv, that is brass

So I duck round the back and lay low like a gutter rat

And didn't mutter jack, but still he comes running back

So I, merk him at this perfect place

Dirty words of froth come splurting out his girly face

Swinging for my legs cuz, I′m running out of pace

Third swipe hits me, I'm down and I′ve hurt my face

Jumps on my back and holds me down like he's found his prey

Elbow to my body and his gun snaps my shoulder blade

Screaming in my ear son, ′You better count your days!'

True story!

This is Fliptrix, Big up Verb-T on production

Hold tight all of the graffiti warriors

Fuck btp