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colourway records - put your colourz on lyrics

[intro – young sid]
ayo
right about now it’s time to push that weak stuff to the side
haha
ayo fiz tell em how it is man

[chorus 1 – fizek]
the colourway hood fit it all
jeans low who we are
bikes all that carry on
homie put your colours on
rappers better slap ya
self before you step
everybody know the name (chill)
and we ain’t even out here

[verse 1 – young sid]
the streets where i hang at, drink brew, gang bang
ax, hammer, bloodshed, money bags, sn-tch grab
s. (s) a. yo, check nuts or lay low
coming around here, catch chucks in your -n-l
i stay in otara where it’s hot in the winter
and bullet shops tend to be the drop
and that is where the cops like to be slapping cuffs on whoever
whenever, the sales will only stop for minute

[verse 2 – fizek]
i’m sorta like the cracks in the concrete
better watch your step when you cross me
i suggest you walk around my block homie
[?} is what they see, colourway is what they know
maddest in the street, like really, fake rappers let it go
we ain’t here to kiss -ss, strictly business swap your cash
swarming with the pack, starting trouble in the back
never dropping it, running’s not an option
i speak for the people above the law
hustlers and [?]

[pre-chorus – young sid]
you gotta let them know, the hood is where it’s at
if you ain’t from round here little man get back
we the realest in the game homie, we ain’t gotta act
put the hood up on the shoulders so the world can see the traps
(so the world can see the traps)

[chorus 2 – young sid]
go put your colours on homie, go put your colours on
it doesn’t matter what colour or where you coming from
my team is coloured the only thing we gon show is form
go put your colours on homie, go put your colours on

[verse 3 – face k!llah]
you wanna know what my life like, chump my life good
they even tryna hear it, got a lab up in the woods
colourway the hq, we having christmas everyday
riding low in a benz with gravity the other day
i got the boiler room cooking, propane gas burning
i ain’t got much to say, many people could be vermin
face k!llah the sermon, fresh meat grill em
my body your little mans i grab, stab and k!ll em

[verse 4 – gravity]
i’m a real life gangsta, a certified hustla
and none of these bustas come close to these k!llas
from the streets and the sectors, need the g-ngb-nging deliverers
acetone spinners, taking shots at fake rappers
you know we ain’t no critters, with money we build bridges
either behind prison’s walls bars, grill ya, drugs, money, bikes, cars
can’t forget my battle scars, ayo k!lla bz heard through the [?]

[verse 5 – punchline]
in that look in that new zealand’s hood fighters
the south auckland dream team got the fiends tapping like arthritis
it’s over for you rappers i’ma test they endurance
the streets was talking before we made our appearance
we separate the hard from the soft, we fighters
you might as well call this whole rap game blop
you know we on top, there ain’t nothing greater
i’ma ride on my haters, welcome to the league of the majors

[verse 6 – 187]
respect 187, i’m rolling with a flock on me
my blank face lives, leave the block with these
and raised up like street kids
the first hit will make you features feeling complete
my satisfaction tactics got you in an arm sling
like i’ll be somewhere eating that corned beef
like kwik-e-mart gandhi’s, sucked onto the whole scene
i spit biz, you think it’s trick-or-treating halloween

- colourway records lyrics

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