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, I'll be right back Handstyles are major, stomp blocks in danger, my rusto's 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, it's 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 Nah'mean? 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 was gettin' 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 don't 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' I'm not tryna go to Central Bookings for the weekend I'm moving like a marathon winner never a quitter Pigs chasing me for bullshit I'm 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 I'm movin', got away, close call still breathin' Shirt ripped, scuffed kicks, out of shape, heavy breathing Not discouraged by my mission, never that I'm 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