| It goes 1 for free cans and 2 for mean streaks
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| 3 for fat markers that we use to bomb streets
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| 4 for cops makin' your heart beat thump
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| often the rush is enough to motivate us to bust
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| (Verse 1)
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| But I’ll, avoid the buff by all means necessary
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| bombin' strategically to have one less adversary
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| and cops work the beat so my feet move with rhythm
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| on the ankle express to manifest youth and rebellion
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| riskin' freedom to animate cities we live in
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| using weapons from neckup and ambition like ammunition
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| pushin' the envelope of graff higher for writers
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| as kings develop styles and inspire the birth of biters
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| toys sketch on papyrus, then graduate to streets
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| spawning new admirers and the cycle repeats and it goes…
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| (Chorus)
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| 1 for free cans, 2 for the crew,
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| 3 toy writers keeping our confidence fueled
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| 4 for cops makin your heart beat thump
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| often that rush is enough to motivate us to bust
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| (Verse 2)
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| now if paintings are rich in content am I defacing walls?
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| or breakin the law if recognitions my accomplice?
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| I ponder while stompin' through concrete museums
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| painting property consciously cause gangs are on surveillance
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| indecent exposure is graffiti what it seems to be?
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| when bringing color to poverty stricken sceneries
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| still a starving artist, cause I’d rather buy paint
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| when passion is massive peripheral become faint
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| My eyes on the prize until I’m tried by police
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| but as soon as I’m released you know the cycle repeats and it goes. |