Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song War Paint, artist - Res OneDate of issue: 30.06.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
War Paint |
| Catch you blamming something up, snatch your paint and your five panel |
| You dry fraggal type flannels, best watch it because I might do (yeah I might |
| do) |
| It’s no secret that I don’t like you, nar |
| Yo, all you writers tryna line out my shit you better hope that I don’t find |
| you (hope that I don’t find you) |
| Cause if it’s graff beef you want fuck a line that I throw bro I’ll just fight |
| you (yeah I’ll just fight you) |
| Catch you blamming something up, snatch your paint and your five panel |
| You dry fraggal type flannel, best watch it because I might do (yeah I might do) |
| It’s no secret that I don’t like you, nar |
| Yo I’ll split your fucking head with a fresh tin of 94, like what you tryna |
| line me for? |
| Plus your head just bust this last tin that I just bought, so now I’m swiping |
| yours |
| If you don’t like it cor blimey I ain’t surprised at all |
| It’s time for war, I’ll wipe the floor with these arty neeks |
| Moving like they’ve got some knarly steeze, til they get confronted and they |
| hardly speak |
| I’ll par their piece with some dusty tags, rushing wack, rusty caps |
| Cause your clique is weak like my flipping teeth, pack your shit and leave |
| Dirty Bris Kiddies hit cities while you bitches sleep |
| I’m gripping these blacks, chromes, golds, pinks and greens |
| Make it so permanent liquid seep into the twisted streets |
| Your handstyles like an arthritic cripple hit a reach, fell off the wall |
| halfway through and ripped his jeans |
| Listen please I don’t give a flying fish about your little beef |
| Toys can’t rumble in the jungle with a gritty beast |
| Yo, all you writers tryna line out my shit you better hope that I don’t find |
| you (hope that I don’t find you) |
| Cause if it’s graff beef you want fuck a line that I throw bro I’ll just fight |
| you (yeah I’ll just fight you) |
| Catch you blamming something up, snatch your paint and your five panel |
| You dry fraggal type flannels, best watch it because I might do (yeah I might |
| do) |
| It’s no secret that I don’t like you, nar |
| Yo I walk up to the wall like ‘Hi mate, do you write (scratches)? |
| ', well that’s my paint, try mate |
| Ape shit, shape shift your face with the grey tin of Molotov borrowed off the |
| same kids that hate us |
| These house party arty type graff critiques, whack bag of neeks tryna reach |
| over tags with cheap (?) |
| I’ll jack your P, I ain’t stopping at |
| Got plots on the map while you cats all act like bombers for slack |
| The same prodigys that probably gassed, for your thoughts on a drawing, |
| on forums ignoring the facts |
| You possible whacked him up, acting tough |
| Graffers get a slap and bust lip as all the bags of volcanic took |
| Fuck if you’re tagging it up, we keep the scene covered |
| Take your weak bubble letters out, plus your team suckers |
| Come chuck it with the scene fuckers, street ruckers |
| We beat buffers and duck when the beast creeps to snuff us |
| Cut from State Your Name |