[Verse 1: Yorgs, Rare & J Stark]

We're back, yeah, we're back with that sound, so let's get it on

Match one, scratchin' the soul funk then set it off

Don't get your letters crossed where rappers are forever boss

Never lost, not for one second, [?]

Big squad, thirty deep, popping marijuana

Such a pack of charmers, spitting like a llama

Smashing down your plumber, splitting like bananas

So, if you want to battle, then you better sabotage us

Fucking, ayy, Yorgs, fucking with Rare, you're

Out of your mind, boy, splitting the sound board

Your fans sound bored, but I found my sport

And it's not like yours, it's on a man-sized court

Damn right, we're back, free throws from downtown

Bloodhounds from the pound, moving mountains and sit down

While your mold hills are piss weak, spilling like a squid's beak

Challenge is not [?], it's just another ripped cheek

Not [?] for your wedding, about as clever as feet

Look like a brick, [?] by meat, suck on my teeth

We're better than your average letters from a savage

Dental is for faggots and this'll leave you shattered

So settle [?] that you fuck it up

With a head that looks like you puckered up to an uppercut

Oh, yeah, that's my boy, Jezza, brah

Ready to smash jars, [?] the floor and come back hard

[Turntablism: DJ Rude]

"Yeah" "Ye–ye–ye–yeah"

"Ye–yeah" "Ye–yeah"

"Aw yeah" "Yeah"

"Aw–aw–" "Yeah"

[Verse 2: Yorgs, Rare & J Stark]

Yeah, now, AC/DC won on the tweak

You got the hundred-degree heat to make your monitors popping leak

It's a dog off the leash, loud, unlocking the beast now

We [?] our best beach when we rock with you freaks, pow

Ya [?] preposterous, [?] I'm monstrous

Then you found a body [?] just like Quantas is

I don't really care for the fame mate, but money talks

So I burn it at the bar, till every dollar shot's a score

Give it up, rip it up, BBS are back

Getting drunk, whaddup, we want you to scream your lungs are

Coughing up blood and you're loving the junk

Like a Kobe Bryant slam dunk, dancing, we're handsome

Oh fuck, this some pig pin [?] wip

Shit nigga, leave your wings split on your chicken wing

Dick lips, 'scuse this, while the boys abuse this

[?]

Make history like Confusious but we won't in the [?]

Three dope rappers pass as Brad Pitt lookalikes

It took some rhymes, see one banging [?]

When kings only write to be surrounded by the [?]

Mosh pit shit, to look alive, you got stepped on

No one gives a fuck mate, dry your eyes, swirl beers

Till you feel crooked size, scared so you're looking twice

BBS and we're lookin' nice, put 'em high

[Turntablism: DJ Rude]

"Yeah" "Ye–ye–ye–yeah"

"Ye–yeah" "Ye–yeah"

"Aw yeah" "Yeah"

"Aw–aw–" "Yeah"

"Yeah"