Lyrics Graffiti Wont Die - Fliptrix

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 chance
I 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