It’s A Rap

[Verse 1: Yorgs, Rare & J Stark]
We're back, yeah, we're back with that sound, so let's get it on
Match one, scratchin' the soul funk then set it off
Don't get your letters crossed where rappers are forever boss
Never lost, not for one second, [?]
Big squad, thirty deep, popping marijuana
Such a pack of charmers, spitting like a llama
Smashing down your plumber, splitting like bananas
So, if you want to battle, then you better sabotage us
Fucking, ayy, Yorgs, fucking with Rare, you're
Out of your mind, boy, splitting the sound board
Your fans sound bored, but I found my sport
And it's not like yours, it's on a man-sized court
Damn right, we're back, free throws from downtown
Bloodhounds from the pound, moving mountains and sit down
While your mold hills are piss weak, spilling like a squid's beak
Challenge is not [?], it's just another ripped cheek
Not [?] for your wedding, about as clever as feet
Look like a brick, [?] by meat, suck on my teeth
We're better than your average letters from a savage
Dental is for faggots and this'll leave you shattered
So settle [?] that you fuck it up
With a head that looks like you puckered up to an uppercut
Oh, yeah, that's my boy, Jezza, brah
Ready to smash jars, [?] the floor and come back hard

[Turntablism: DJ Rude]
"Yeah" "Ye–ye–ye–yeah"
"Ye–yeah" "Ye–yeah"
"Aw yeah" "Yeah"
"Aw–aw–" "Yeah"

[Verse 2: Yorgs, Rare & J Stark]
Yeah, now, AC/DC won on the tweak
You got the hundred-degree heat to make your monitors popping leak
It's a dog off the leash, loud, unlocking the beast now
We [?] our best beach when we rock with you freaks, pow
Ya [?] preposterous, [?] I'm monstrous
Then you found a body [?] just like Quantas is
I don't really care for the fame mate, but money talks
So I burn it at the bar, till every dollar shot's a score
Give it up, rip it up, BBS are back
Getting drunk, whaddup, we want you to scream your lungs are
Coughing up blood and you're loving the junk
Like a Kobe Bryant slam dunk, dancing, we're handsome
Oh fuck, this some pig pin [?] wip
Shit nigga, leave your wings split on your chicken wing
Dick lips, 'scuse this, while the boys abuse this
[?]
Make history like Confusious but we won't in the [?]
Three dope rappers pass as Brad Pitt lookalikes
It took some rhymes, see one banging [?]
When kings only write to be surrounded by the [?]
Mosh pit shit, to look alive, you got stepped on
No one gives a fuck mate, dry your eyes, swirl beers
Till you feel crooked size, scared so you're looking twice
BBS and we're lookin' nice, put 'em high

[Turntablism: DJ Rude]
"Yeah" "Ye–ye–ye–yeah"
"Ye–yeah" "Ye–yeah"
"Aw yeah" "Yeah"
"Aw–aw–" "Yeah"
"Yeah"