Sixers (feat. Murs)

My story aint like yours, Its something like mike miur

Im spitting from my core, Im gripping the mic pure

Fighting the right war, knew what i was fighting for

So every night on tour, I was spending the night on floors

That the blueprint that i leaned from the true shit

Do it all yourself or you wont ever do shit

Only black kid in the pit at Rancid

Once i heard Kerplunk I thought i had all the answers

NorCal down to So Cal it’s No Doubt

My crew show up to your show and then we show out

Scaring posers only there for exposure

You bought a magazine now you wear what they told ya?

Holes in my jeans because i skrrt on my skateboard

Holes in your jeans because that’s what you paid for

No room for fakes that’s scared to break rules

We must scrape the slate to escape and make moves!

Tough times dont last but tough people do (Hard times comin)

Can’t stop, won’t stop

You dont compete where you dont compare (Stay in your own lane)

You can only run your own race

feelin finer than a DIY igniter

I invite to ya mama’s eyeliner and an audio assault

Nobody gotta vouch for the exploited blue collar

Just move out the way if you don’t wanna get shoved

I’m in a subculture with no fucks to sublet

Come get a swallow of a semi-auto beverage

Show up in a denim vest, you decorated slacker

Investegate a scene in a city with no back up

Yeah, patches! Panic at the punk house

Full-contact melodies, tell em what it’s all about

Child, how never bang your head

To that shit your dad calls worst record of the year

Say a prayer for him nana he done ran away from home again

Rockin a bandana wit a plan to see his favorite band

And can’t nobody tell me nothin,

Moshing out to bad brains in the thick of it

Uh, lemm make make this clear you gotta take your share cuz life ain’t fair and

Yup, I come to run amok, now here they go yellin “here comes the new punk!”

I’m somewhere between graffiti artist and vandal,

straight out the bowels of an american landfill

And damn it feels good to see degenerates who get it in

spreading the good word with a stencil and a paint can

Catch me at at Triple Six Ask A Punk Place.

Guerrillas in the midst of an anarchist enclave

Spend a whole day in a costume and shed it

Where the only form of credit was invented in a cellar

nevermind why the band is still sellin cassette tapes

Bet you gonna look to buy a walkman the next day

Mom’s never talked about her days of loving X-Ray Spex

Better yet with whom she had sex.

Prolly got you like “MOM!!! those days are gone but

How you gonna act like you never sold ganja?

Rockin Doc Martens, talkin bout nihilism

tellin cats that you believe in consensual violence