got the fever

Fat caps and shit
Pilots and shit
Griffins, rustoleum
Homemades
Lay-ups, the whole shit man
For all my real graff niggas, son. Them niggas know what it is, niggas out night, know what im saying? Gettin that tag on and shit. Yo
I remenisce days wearin all black, paint in my knapsack
Summer squash yellow callin me, I had to rack that
Freaking for an inside, perfectly outlined
Laid make the strip shine, nigga I take mine
Tags on the J-Line, E-train tunnels
Flat black, got stacks, fat caps, by bundles it was like that
Take my spot, Ill be right back
Handstyles are major, stomp blocks in danger, my rustos in labor about to give birth to flavor
Vandal Squad cops play blocks in a LeSabre
Tryna catch niggas creatin their name lookin for fame
Sometimes you get locked, its just part of the game
Anti-freeze in my Griffin I was makin a stain
First car to the back of the train, simple and plain
Wreckin rack spots shuttin down leavin them slain
Real talk son, graff on the brain shit was insane Nahmean?
I got 25 cans in my knapsack
Hands in the air
Wanna daydream while im writing graffiti
I spent hours writin graffiti
I spent hours... puttin up my name in a fat cap
Yo I can still smell the paint in the air, like I was there
I used to ride the 7 train way back and just stare
At the colors on the roof, pale yellow was the shit
Everybody wildin out, anybody was a vic
Pilot marker in my pocket, everything wasgettin hit
When you come through correct, your whole style get bit
Triple outline, takin my time to look crisp
Can control, crushin cops straight stomp, we dont miss
Four fingertips, street krylons like 4 clips
Kill something spray and pass the weapon, keep steppin
Niggas know my style still reppin no question
I drop a lot of truth when I rhyme so pay attention
In New York, we make walls talk free expression
Beyond comprehension of the regular [?]
Paint in my pocket, fat cap in my sneaker late night on a mission for self, I got the fever
I got 25 cans in my knapsack
Hands in the air
Wanna daydream while im writing graffiti
I spent hours writin graffiti
I spent hours... puttin up my name in a fat cap
Adrenaline rushin as I see a transit cop comin
Now I start runnin, hot pursuit, drop the paint, hop the roof, slipped, fell
Cut myself, my left hand leakin
Im not tryna go to Central Bookings for the weekend
Im moving like a marathon winner never a quitter
Pigs chasing me for bullshit Im wondering why they bitter
So I go left, go right, go left, empty Ave, run around the corner and I hopped into a cab
Now Im movin, got away, close call still breathin
Shirt ripped, scuffed kicks, out of shape, heavy breathing
Not discouraged by my mission, never that Im still proceeding
Doin spots, like a heathen
Monday, to the weekend
Peace to all the writers catchin tags every evening
Spots steamin hot gleaming permy walls on forever shit
Drop lines for 7 million avid rebel terrorists
One love, coming from a spraypaint specialist, you heard?
I got 25 cans in my knapsack
Hands in the air
Wanna daydream while im writing graffiti
I spent hours writin graffiti
I spent hours... puttin up my name in a fat cap