[Verse]
They callin’ for beef, I'm a murder them all, swear to God, I'mma kill some
At your doorstep with a pump bang-bang, leave your body all turned up
I'mma drive of blowin’ smoke from my blunt, from my eyes, wipe the blood marks
Bally, you off in the back seat
Don’t talk much, man, I got real cunts on my team
I'm skullin’ jack 'til I’m drunk in the mirror
Talking shit with a razor blade in my mouth to my tongue
Look, if you wanna come and get it
Don’t forget it and to one man, I still pump hustle hard
Trap runners in the trap, pump crack, make stacks
Man, the boy merks 'bout dat
I'mma ride for my team, I'mma die for my team
At the top is my dream, sellin' out ain't 4
Nah, it ain't for me what happened to the days man they’re about the street
I'm a lion in the jungle and these cunts are weak, fuck gutta rap its to roar the beast, to roar the beast
Come hard with that real talk, never bow to judge when we in court
Low brim hat with a shiv dacked, kill 'em all, get your house run through with just one phone call
King of the underground
And I been around since way back, man, I'mma never leave
King of the underground
Selling out to their self is the same shit that they preach
King of the underground
Trap runners better click, and you know that we run the street
Listenin' to some real shit
I'mma kill these motherfuckers but I'm over the bullshit
'Cause I'm from the South
Hurstville homeboy, put a gun on your mouth *cheek cheek* (Man)
Kick in your front door
Rip the phone cord out the wall, face down on the floor
My clique 'bout that life and I ain't scared to die put a price on your life
You wanna roll that dice, this games all fucked up, rappers rappin' to a pipe
I'mma bring the heat back put Sydney on the map, take over with the gutter rap
'Cause I'm sick of the fakes that when damn well, man, got what it takes
In the game, a long time, steady staying on my grind, I was raised by a stop sign
Make money as a young boy, this has been a mixtape streets going make noise
Trap runners motherfucker
Yeah, south side Sydney
Comin’ with that real shit
Trap runners
Money money
Homicide
Tryin’ making it out of these mother fucking streets man
Sick of these fake cunts talking like they doing shit but they ain't
I’ve been on the grind since a young boy
Sydney searchers, motherfuckers, do your homework
You know what I'm sayin’, fuck man