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lirik lagu war paint – res one

[intro – risk 9]
cut from state your name

[chorus– res one & datkid]

yo, all you writers tryna line out my sh*t you better hope that i don’t find you (hope that i don’t find you)
cause if it’s graff beef you want f*ck a line that i throw bro i’ll just fight you (yeah i’ll just fight you)
catch you blamming something up, sn*tch 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 sh*t you better hope that i don’t find you (hope that i don’t find you)
cause if it’s graff beef you want f*ck a line that i throw bro i’ll just fight you (yeah i’ll just fight you)
catch you blamming something up, sn*tch 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

[verse 1 – datkid]

yo i’ll split your f*cking 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 st**ze, 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 t**th, pack your sh*t and leave
dirty bris kiddies hit cities while you b*tches 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

[chorus– res one & datkid]

[verse 2 – res one]

yo i walk up to the wall like ‘hi mate, do you write (scratches)?’, well that’s my paint, try mate
ape sh*t, 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
f*ck 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 f*ckers, street ruckers
we beat buffers and duck when the beast creeps to snuff us

[outro – risk 9]
cut from state your name

- res one

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