These Walls Don't Lie

A-1-2, A-1-2
 But you don't stop
 Then let the short shot
 Production: DJ Large
 And Promoe on the mic(on the mic, on the mic)
 For all my people(all my people, graffiti writers!)
 Goes a little something like this:
 It was the last days of summer
 Sun shinin' through the window
 Life movin' real slow
 You know how things go
 His friends knew him by the name of Bingo
 As he turned up the volume on the hot new single
 (Turn it up son!)
 From Looptroop his favourite rapgroup
 He loved how they represented him yo
 The graffyouth from the grassroots
 He came from Sweden too
 Felt proud when he played
 his new friends the latest tunes
 Check this shit out man
 That he had to download
 Cause his local recordstore
 Was on the other side of the globe
 They didn't carry the stuff
 But he felt it was okay to do
 He spread the Troop's message
 All the way to Australia, dude
 And man that couldn't be wrong
 When Long Arm and Freedom Fighters
 Were his fuckin' theme songs
 In the headphones those nights
 He spent when he stayed up
 Adrenaline Rush
 When he entered the lay up, singin...
 Bada papa papa...
 You know graffiti won't die, die
 No, it won't, aha
 Because these walls don't lie, lie (They don't lie)
 Come on
 I'm dedicatin' this piece, aha
 He said, to those DVSG's
 And stepped in with a grin and a boosted Kangol
 Mimicking the king
 With the ruler's manners
 Chorus: Fresh dressed
 In his newest shoes and flannels
 Then began lettin' on
 With the loosest cannons
 Figurin' this'll be my coolest panel
 But when they see it all they see
 Is just a gruesome scandal
 Erasin' all signs of life
 Callin the youth some vandals
 They can't handle the truth
 So this is how the truth is handled
 Deep into the music and his art
 Man, his true love
 Didn't even notice when the train pulled up
 Before the bloodstains faded
 On the engine cooler
 The very same train
 Hit another writer: Olaf
 On a different continental: Europe
 But then they came to the same place,
 That I'm sure of
 In this world people always
 Looked upon them as a terror
 But now 50 000 chariots singin' the chorus, going...
 Bada papa papa...
 (aha, aha)
 Graffiti writers won't die, die, no
 (I'm telling you)
 Because these walls don't lie, lie, no
 (They don't lie)
 Come on
 I'm dedicatin' this song, song
 To those gone
 Your memory live on(live on)
 Bridge:
 I know a lot of people
 Including myself get uncomfortable
 When people including myself
 Get emotional
 But I gotta be true to myself
 And to most of y'all
 Man I still got love
 For graffiti culture though
 A lot of people including myself
 Get uncomfortable
 When people including myself
 Get emotional
 But I gotta be true to myself
 And to most of y'all
 Man I still got love
 For graffiti culture though
 A lot changed from
 The days of Spraycan stories
 See me in the yard today
 Lost like a freakin' tourist
 And I don't claim to know much
 All I really know is
 We were 17 once
 Actin' like we were immortals
 Fearin' no evil
 People said we had no morals
 That's fine, their corrupt world
 It really wasn't for us
 We just laughed at the bullshit names
 That they called us
 Hated us, we hated them
 And both sides found out what a war is
 We were winning in the beginning
 Then found out 'bout the horrors
 Don't get me wrong my lover
 Hundred percent, no less
 Peace to my people
 We grow with the knowledge
 I bite on death same time
 I'm playin' hardish to catch
 From South Africa
 Writers from New York
 Australia, Spain, France
 And Germany, up north
 Still the same rapper tellin'
 Cops to fuck off
 And all my writers:
 Survive! This my love song to y'all
 Bada papa papa...
 ♪
 You know graffiti won't die, die, no
 ♪
 Because these walls don't lie, lie, no
 To all my people world wide, wide, yo'