Trucha

Masked with nylon with a can of krylon while on

point see you through the walls we write on

ride strong with a crew who’s considered sly cons

high on this rush provided my wrong

cops try to put a stop to my art and hip hop

but they knock what we rock we got the streets locked

juras don’t mix with pinturas

catch us slipping and try shoots us

we’re looters of virgin walls the no gutters

writers reign supreme on the street art scene

my team goes by the OPM kings

rings and tight cliques we mix to snipe hits

and be the uppest that’s the main thing

catch graffitIwreck on my city set

my committee gets respect well known with a gritty rep

who step to the bomb yard with a fat tip

trying to get a name in this world and that’s it

I like to crash dance halls write all over the walls

I like to rock buildings that stand a hundred feet tall

respect or street props I never got any

then I met German fat and new york skinny

now I'm known coast to coast east to west

everybody out here be my alias

I bust an old school battle like MC sham

but instead of a mic I rock a twelve ounce can

now here we are all dressed in black

mobbin' down by the railroad track

we began our attack

watch out for the cops and the sneaky rats

so next time when you're out on a midnight mission

keep your eyes peeled for the police they out there fishing

for all the young hoods that like to rock

and ain't even trippin on a motherfucking cop