Manhattan Project

I won't stop painting 'till the world looks the way it should I'm on a mission to make heaven look like my neighborhood x2 [Verse 1] Fuck creepin in yards, storm the gates 100 deep Who knew these cans of true blue was heat and thunder speech Old chicago role models was avacadoes and olives Throwups without hangovers Names older than God's is Where bombing's not a hobby, it's a habit Where addicts rappers braggin 'bout tags and dont know dick about this graf shit Attack the metro track with fat catps for fading Gray-greens can't wait to see Page versus Daley Its on like lucky hoodies, what could he teach me While you were sleeping, I'm teaching his kids, through grafitti I have to argue, been rhyming this shit ain't hard to do But technical advertisements on Jarvis and harbor blue Outlined in summer squash Dumb rock my dark attire mine's wrecked from running from cops Hoppin barbwire while you dream of being me between clean sheets Play the role, personality splittin' like mean streaks No room for bling blingin thugs and wack crooks I'm tryna king the line bring ya drugs gear and black books I'm in ya face in the tunnels and at the brew spots I'm on ya train insane to hit paddy wagons and rooftops You heard of me Burgundy and outlines like murder scenes German greens and ferns and flat whites for blurring greens Fuck over your heads man I'm climbing pylons Tobacco brown montana, banana krylons Hit the red line, headlines fuck the buff yo For those who must know It's been fresh blue like rusto [Hook] "The mic's the spray can" "Stay true to the art." "Simple and plain, let me explain." "This is a mission, not a small time thing." *scratching* "The mic's the spray can" "Stay true to the art." "This is a mission, not a small time thing." [Verse 2] I remember graf before more beef then hindu-sac relig Ay you write? fuck you, rack your fat caps from lids Braggin' on tracks how you snap way in the day? Masturbate to lies, I'm to busy shakin' paint rain Sleet or snow out to rock with mission's call Laugh at graffitti blasters Piss on permission walls Wrong side of the graf track with acid 3D glasses blast this shit backwards and graffitti blast the classes After smashin vandal squads askin' what happened I'm done rappin' colder than aspen to get your tags flipped Beef without slabs of meat Saggin' ya jeans Graf fiends scream for grif dip sticks, even ya tag is weak This is for you who choose to rock lines And toys with red pilots rockin' stop signs, stop lyin' Find ya niche, mine's a bitch to kick, bad habit Language visualize, content phat Mad graphic, pass the fat black as this cat snaps And laugh at fashion f*g writers with a fill-in Qwel villian, feels like writin', keep killin' Resurrectin' heavens buildings and bulidin heavens children [Hook] You ain't seen a frieght train straight aim with paint stains Or parked trucks framed in stardust brushed with fame flame Three cans of soul: green, sand, and golden spray trucks Names dribbled down the yard, we hit the lay-ups Dispelling devils from high levels like it's a done job Couldn't mimic mr.straightlines on a etch-a-sketch with one knob Shy ills killin villians with fill-in illest noise rocks Toy scratched bombed the way out of this pine toy box Tag ya backpack straps it's past ya bedtime Heads find dead-or-alive this time to hit the redlines The autograph slaughtercrap artists laugh at man's design The last on society signed like pantomimes Buff the blackboard, attack it with true blue No matter how you see it, you lose like flippin zulu I used to paint my name on trains to get my thrill on Much love but fuck a once was mother fucker, we still bomb I won't stop painting 'till the world looks the way it should I'm on a mission to make heaven look like my neighborhood I won't stop painting 'till the world looks the way it should I'm on a mission to make heaven look like your neighborhood