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lirik lagu spit syndicate - thus far

[intro: jimmy nice]
yeah, and it goes
on and on and on, and on and on and
said i gotta give you the real
this is the story thus far
yeah

[verse 1: jimmy nice]
uh
what up fam? nuff respect for tunin’ in
get a cup, fill it up, let me do my thing
some sh-t i should address, hope i can put it best
dust off the fl!cks and sit atop a wooden chest
set of keys and a couple old matchsticks
all stations mag, a couple old graf’ pics
i remember hatin’ this view when i was 19 and broke
blowin’ out my weed through the fly screen
let’s bring it all to the light like high beams
quite like i’ve seen, from the ground up like an i-beam
just some hopeless kids
out the underground most don’t know exists
house parties a block away, nike’s and polos
a kiddie called nicky, y’all know ‘im as solo (sup, man?)
we got together, put the letters in the crew (true)
later nick lupe got introduced

[verse 2: nick lupi]
and i can still see it very clear
walkin’ the same streets we crossed as kids, i spend my adolescence here
hip-hop spoke to us, we heard it everywhere
soak it up, pay your dues ‘fore you get a chair
on the bus to school noddin’ my head along
dead prez, let’s get free, i learnt every song (hip-hop)
to us older brothers were like legends
and as such we worshipped the ground they’d treat upon
jimmy and hilly used to walk to my school
just to pick me up, we couldn’t cut cl-ss quick enough
we would talk sh-t and just rhyme all day
recordin’ takes down at horse’s place
that’s when i dabbled in the battle sh-t, took a couple t-tles out
dug a few ditches for dudes that they weren’t climbin’ out
we used to laugh at the sh-t that we would rhyme about
never believed that we’d be puttin’ vinyl out

[verse 3: jimmy nice]
yeah
friday came round, hit the city for drinks
train hoppin’ on my day off, mixin’ inks
politickin’ on the chicks we linked, godd-mn
wood stuck in hand like my sh-t don’t stink
heard ’bout your party through the grapevine, we rocked up
thirty-deep down mainline, we bossed up
we in the era of the eighty-two-ten right now
when we rhyme to the sound of a beatboxer
handful of peeps, jack beats and computer mic’s
seven rappers in one take, make sure you do it right

[verse 4: nick lupi]
and we would do it like
rockin’ shows on a school night
tryna move copies of the future’s bright
shazzy b was the first one to play us
fbi, we linked up with famous
we recorded at his flat in paddington
“keep practicin'” he said, “and you’ll get this happenin'”

[verse 5: jimmy nice]
see as it happened fame moved to the cross
learnt quickly that that part of the city don’t stop
suits livin’ below and dealers above
diaz and b in the background showin’ mad love
the hero and the trickster 13th son
swarmy g the gentleman’s club
got on the appetiser ep, i cleared my throat
saw suffa down in soul clate, told me, “them raps were dope”
quote, we not concerned with the bottom line
this is somethin’ you can’t measure with a dollar sign

[verse 6: nick lupi]
we gave it everything we had, we was on the grind
hustle for studio time, for the dotted line
to sign, nah, it wasn’t even on the mind
we just wanted to rhyme (wanted the dimes)
had to pinch myself, we were kickin’ it jase’s
going through beats with the man, m-phazes
crashin’ on the floor back at dj flagrant’s
“here today”, remember when we made it

[verse 7: jimmy nice]
uh
‘member the first time that triple j played it
money, yeah, we made it, but we never saved it
we were busy ridin’ the wave and gettin’ faded
we were busy ridin’ the wave and gettin’ faded
blow a couple g’s on that thailand pavement
came home, reality had me jaded
rental payments, wonder where the days went
the illy pad, the studio in the bas-m-nt

[verse 8: nick lupi]
yeah, that’s when we started gettin’ into exile
my man, adit, came through with the death style
put our city on the back like textiles
puttin’ the truth out there like the x-files
two albums and a few tours down
inside story brought us through your town
more drinks, more weed, got around
on a shoestring budget, but we tore sh-t down
and so on the show goes
kickin’ in the door till we broke [?]
so we both know how broke goes
holding down jobs on the road kicking flows

- lirik lagu spit syndicate

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