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1. |
BURIED
03:43
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PRO, PRO
Just another deadly brother
Word to mother
Detached from it all
Reactions of war
You get smacked in the jaw
Eh
I walk with the dead
Forgotten the worthless
Brah I'm rotten in the head
Lost with no purpose
Dropping gems on the track
Face to the furnace
In some fresh Air Max
We were raped and murdered
When they learned of our land
Terra Nullius numbers
They decreased from disease
Genocidal slumbers
Colonial dreams
Blood-soaked covers
Got the blade for the buffer
Not contained no structure
Raised by this system
We all victims, shut up
Put the money in the bag, do it
Kooris on the come up
Getting dosh, brah
Uck them unjies
Geronimo
Cunts get jumped like bunjies
Ah, you wanna go
You'll get slapped up, cuzzy
Got the ruger dacked
With a stack full of hundreds
Blow Becky's brains out
No more good hair, honey
I'm the slumlord
Pay your rent, blood money
Buried in a hoodie
Detached from it all
Buried in a hoodie
Reactions of war
Buried in a hoodie
Detached from it all
Buried in a hoodie
You'll get smacked in the jaw
Buried in a hoodie
Detached from it all
Buried in a hoodie
Reactions of war
Buried in a hoodie
Detached from it all
Buried in a hoodie
You'll get smacked in the jaw
Devil in my ear
Conversating with Satan
Fuck the rocks on your bezel
Feel the peril I'm facing
Assemble with the crooks
The barely awakened
Me I'm buried in a hoodie
Air Max on the pavement
Feeling deadly like I should
But empty and vacant
Semi auto get a grip
Brah, the envious hate us
Ancient blood in my veins
From when they invaded
Stationed in these streets
Wear them logos emblazoned
On our chest, racked up
Doing bumps of death
On some [inhale]
Cos they love what I rep
What you rep, brah?
Not that postcard shit
In south-west, go hard
You don't know, brah, listen
Lower-class rhythm
Like the blood of a mongol
Late night, M5
And I'm loving the throttle
Under the night sky
Blood on the wattle
RIP Pemulwuy, unc
Sydney forgot you
Buried in a hoodie
Detached from it all
Buried in a hoodie
Reactions of war
Buried in a hoodie
Detached from it all
Buried in a hoodie
You'll get smacked in the jaw
Buried in a hoodie
Detached from it all
Buried in a hoodie
Reactions of war
Buried in a hoodie
Detached from it all
Buried in a hoodie
You'll get smacked in the jaw
Pulling out a glock and I'm,
'Where the cash at, ah?
Where's the fucking money?
Money talks motherfucker
Save the backchat, brah
That's it!'
I'll be swearing at myself
Like I even care, ah?
'What the fuck I done?'
Waking up in cold sweats
Life ain't even fair
We find peace in death
And survive the despair
Buried in a hoodie
Detached from it all
Buried in a hoodie
Reactions of war
Buried in a hoodie
Detached from it all
Buried in a hoodie
You'll get smacked in the jaw
Buried in a hoodie
Detached from it all
Buried in a hoodie
Reactions of war
Buried in a hoodie
Detached from it all
Buried in a hoodie
You'll get smacked in the jaw
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2. |
GO HARD
03:38
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P to the RO
Leave a motherfucker embargoed
We shut our shit down
Rep for my mob
Black Yellow Red shit
Check it
No despot on my job
Rep for my mob
Looking deadly, fresh
And I'm blessed but not forgot
It's the blood my heart pumps
Warrior scarred up
Catch a smarts up
Catch you slippin hard luck
White privilege always talking
Never ask us
So we push it to the limit
When it's time to act up
Sparking up a durry
Yellin out "Fuck gunjies"
On my Sydney shit cuzzy
Like Eora country
Rocking Huaraches
Looking raw in a rugby
And my boy's got that raw
With the need to make money
Street cunt
Drop knowledge on the track
So we'll fuck a cunt up
Only dealing with the facts
Punks eager to stomp
Westies out the trap
Don't fuck with my mob
Or my clean Air Max
Gonna get blood soaked
When I hang ain't got enough rope
I keep a blade on me
With a bunch of cut-throats
You motherfuckers know that
You can't fuck with us, brah
Cos this that shit, that shit
This is that shit, go hard
You motherfuckers know that
You can't fuck with us, brah
Cos this that shit, that shit
This is that shit, go hard
We're believers in the truth
Knowledge kills confusion
When the dream is in the youth
That'll lead us to revolution
The Freedom Ride with some guns on the bus
Fully order, there's no more to say, bruz
Got our backs to the wall
Nowhere to go but advance
Australia ain't fair
Getting robbed of the chance
And these politicians wash the blood off their hands
Robbed of our land, it's that old song and dance
Shake a leg never scared for you flick a right scam
Surrounded by Aussie fake cunts acting like we're fam
Talking shit on the net, I know cunts from your area
Make it more the merrier until my brother bury ya
Deadlier than them town hall steps
In a fresh pair of Airs looking who to rort next
With no ticket on the train, text a dripping
Better mind your own bizzo or you'll be the next victim
You motherfuckers know that
You can't fuck with us, brah
Cos this that shit, that shit
This is that shit, go hard
You motherfuckers know that
You can't fuck with us, brah
Cos this that shit, that shit
This is that shit, go hard
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3. |
G.O.D
03:26
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Fresh to death
Sydney's all we fucking rep
Ground zero
Eh
1967 on the Polo bruz I seen struggle
Armageddon through my eyes all I see is trouble
G.O.D. in '95s with the green bubbles
Greed over dreams, cash rules and I need a bundle
I've been humble get devoured we don't fight fair
My boys selling powder, street dreams and nightmares
In Nike Airs, PRO I'm like a SK
Hanging out the window over beats bruz, I let it spray
Get away, give me room, I'm on the rise, bruz
Top five in the country, fucking right, bruz
I was raised in the '90s, heroin and Air Max
Now I'm trying to get my hands on that mediene cash
Never been a rat, pull the bally down, fade to black
Raise a stash, take a crack, we had to fucking make a stack
Wad full of hundreds so green like a Raiders hat
Motherfucker, you ain't made for that
Greed over dollars
G.O.D.
Bruz I'm Rocky in that meat locker
In that meat locker
Going hard for mine
Going hard for mine
Like a fucking street bomber
Like a fucking street bomber
Greed over dollars
G.O.D.
Bruz I'm Rocky in that meat locker
In that meat locker
Going hard for mine
Going hard for mine
Like a fucking street bomber
Like a fucking street bomber
Box cutter, box cutter, what you want, brother?
I wanna stack a pineapples like a hot summer
Greenbacks got me dreaming 'bout some cash
Give me reasons to react
Leave you freezing from the slash
Cold blades, I make a mess like I'm pro hart
PRO, south-west I rep it so hard
That Sydneyizm, Air Max
Tachini rhythm, stand back
Motherfucker, you don't want to be an easy victim
Seen him slip and caught the cunt
Then he dropped like Vision
Sipping grog, empty bottles, making wrong decisions
Politician hand to heart for their wads I'll mission
And I got bars like my cuz that's locked up in prison
I shut it down with the Kooris bruz, don't fuck around
The Gumeroi 500 makes a fucking sound
Pockets empty come up short like John stockton
ready to drop gems
Brah these rocks are heavy
Greed over dollars
G.O.D.
Bruz I'm Rocky in that meat locker
In that meat locker
Going hard for mine
Going hard for mine
Like a fucking street bomber
Like a fucking street bomber
Greed over dollars
G.O.D.
Bruz I'm Rocky in that meat locker
In that meat locker
Going hard for mine
Going hard for mine
Like a fucking street bomber
Like a fucking street bomber
Fuck government money, bruz, I'd rather sell drugs
Grip a bundle and hustle my way to hell, cuz
Somebody tell cunts praying for some fresh Airs
We peddle wares, recite the devil's prayer:
"As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
In a new pair of Maxes, bruz, looking fresh
It's always greed over dreams
Fuck whatever's left
We're just praying for some fresh Airs."
G.O.D.
Bruz I'm Rocky in that meat locker
In that meat locker
Going hard for mine
Going hard for mine
Like a fucking street bomber
Like a fucking street bomber
Greed over dollars
G.O.D.
Bruz I'm Rocky in that meat locker
In that meat locker
Going hard for mine
Going hard for mine
Like a fucking street bomber
Like a fucking street bomber
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4. |
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VOICEOVER:
Kept in solitary confinement for 23 and a half hours a day, for 15 days straight, he's lost all sense of time and he's deeply distressed. The boy's been asking the guards repeatedly for weeks why he's being kept in solitary confinement and when he's going to be released from his dark, hot, stinking cell.
PROVOCALZ:
Fuck a Royal Commission, brah
These royals' commission
The invasion, the genocide, the conditions
Where we're prisoners of war
The system at its core
Is a child on the floor getting kicked in the jaw
Stripped of culture, saw that black cockatoo
Flying over the yard, that's freedom he never knew
Buried in them walls with sadistic screws
Who couldn't give two fucks, so they torture and abuse
Rehabilitation of a future that's sacred
Never happens in the lockup, brah, that shit breeds hatred
Gotta fight to survive, that could have been me
Young cunt doing crime, life on these streets
Just a product of them hard times, honest
We tried, did our parents even want us?
Empty pockets, so I'm out to make a profit
Carry tools for protection and ain't talking about a socket
VOICOVER:
On the other side of the reinforced door, a group of prison officers is at the ready. The officers on duty tonight are heard laughing at the boy's anguish.
PROVOCALZ:
The most innocent of lives in a cold, dark cell
They're forgotten, like they're in another realm
Getting welcomed into hell by a devil in a uniform
Failed life so he's out to fucking ruin yours
What's the cause and effect? There's no rest for us all
War of attrition, only listen when we're forced
Bound and gagged, so you know it's fuck them all
Thrown in the paddy by your pigger over laws
That were built on bloodshed, the death congregation
Of this ugly nation
Another black death and the government are racists
All we've got is us feeling trapped and invaded
Deep in them cages and ain't even got a plan
Right here on my land as I raise my hand
Bedsheet gripped tight round my neck as I cry
Because ending my own life's the only way I will survive
VOICEOVER:
The image you've just seen isn't from Guantanamo Bay or Abu Ghraib, but Australia in 2015. A boy, hooded, shackled, strapped to a chair and left alone. It is barbaric: a system that punishes troubled children instead of rehabilitating them.
ANCESTRESS:
Murder, neglect and disrespect
Is all we can expect from an illegitimate government
The colonial context will never relent
Till we get our land back again
Maybe then we can be friends
When the pain begins to mend
Till then, keep your hands off our children
Hey Mr PM,
We all know you turned your back when you first seen them
But still you pretend
Dance around your lies and your policies
In our babies' eyes
Spirits dance around campfires, corroborees
Don't you see, this is still daylight robbery
Nobody's free
Everything the government has done to us is shady
Always been torturing our babies
Swear ya tryna send us crazy
The oppressions filling spaces trans-generationally
Through our ancestry
And it's never gonna stop it seems
I guess u can't even have proppa dreams
A world without a child's screams
Without the violence and torture
For your sons and daughters
Maybe there's something in the water
I think it's all the bloodshed and slaughter
That your people taught ya
But hey maybe it's time to just reflect on the concept
And stop all the nonsense
Be honest about your hand in the torment
Unlock the cage, because nothing's going to change
Till we get our land back again
Maybe then we can be friends
When the pain begins to mend
Till then, be a better man
And keep your hands off our children
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Provocalz Sydney, Australia
provocalz is a raw straight up no gimmicks no bullshit mc from south west Sydney raised in the 90s the golden era of hip hop..ill flows ill lyricism n for real reasons
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