B.B.S., Illy - Don't Look lyrics

Rare MC, in a fist full of fuel
He be runnin' these streets and
Piss on dunny seats
You're dumb geeks with your
Hair full of chewie painted on jeans with a
Vest and some jewellery
Youse are pests and you don't
Know what you're doin'
No metro, let go, stop talkin' about your
Weekend habit's
Claiming you are drug addicts
Had my drink intake
(Oi, it's seven Gary Abletts)
Give a fuck dick, you're Mister Fiction
Livin' off other people's arses
Makin' sure that everyone has listenined to
Your bullshit stories
They're so fuckin' boring, piss off bro
You're annoying and I might just add this
You emo kids, you give me the shit's
You wouldn't know a hardcore band if


It slit your bloody wrist
Ending up on the floor in a
Puddle of your own piss

Yeah, don't look, don't look now
Don't look now
BBS and we're runnin' the town
Already at the throne so jokers
Give up the crown
Yeah, don't look, don't look now
Don't look now
BBS and we're hummin' the sound
'Ll leave a pink-shirt poof
Six feet underground

Yeah, we got jokes but we're
Far from a laughin' stock
Of girls hangin' out and cock
I think it's 'cause the size
Of it gets in bar and fuck pay then I'm
Namin' the startin' cost
Two grand a week? Nah, one show in fact
Make it every time I say fuck
And cunt on the microphone
You get vibe alone, I keep typing though
Until my raps are so tight the
Whole entire style is know
And blown up, you faggots get shown up
You wanna get stoned, fuck
Your shit needs to be sewn shut
Believe me mate, I'm in town, cuttin' the rug
Yeah, it's house but I'm
Two steppin', fuck it, i'm drunk
Still listen to funk with cup
On Mick Jagger's mum
Also crunk if someone talentless
Hums over the drums if I'm in a pub
Come up and say hello for fuck's sake
I'm not hard 'cause I rap
I'd rather stay at home and suck face

Yeah, don't look, don't look now
Don't look now
BBS and we're runnin' the town
Already at the throne so jokers
Give up the crown
Yeah, don't look, don't look now
Don't look now
BBS and we're hummin' the sound
'Ll leave a pink-shirt poof
Six feet underground

Taste my vapour as your hearts all melt
You fakes are a waste of
Paper like a cardboard belt
We're not hard to be felt 'cause
Our cards have been dealt (We're artists)
The craft of BBS is how the yard's been spelt
After dark
It's hell 'cause I got no grace kid
You can tell I date chicks
Off face who taste dick
But, yo, I can't fake this
It's back to basics
I risk ciggies and piss and
There goes the pay slips flows in basements
Now the garage is the verdict
For my barrage of words mince
To massaging your muscles
Our beer muzzles hurted
The nerds are already nervous
Scratchin' the scene's surface
Part of the fuckin' purpose
The words are slurred but it's
The point that's still told
My joints are still cold since
The sun's been sold
This fund's got a hold of
Every cunt making it old
The whole of BBS, fully breakin' this mould

Yeah, don't look, don't look now
Don't look now
BBS and we're runnin' the town
Already at the throne so jokers
Give up the crown
Yeah, don't look, don't look now (yeah)
Don't look now
BBS and we're hummin' the sound (yeah)
'Ll leave a pink-shirt poof
Six feet underground (yeah)

Illy got spit's like llamas
The shit's bananas
Pricks can't even dint the armour
Go hard with the eesh, and trust me
It ain't nothin' for me to tweak
And Bin Laden the beat
And pardon the cheek and nerve (Excuse us)
But BBS about spit's, piss, cigs and birds
(Yup)
Quick whip, big dicks, lit cigs and herbs
(Yup) 'Cause we like to get ripped
(Word, word, word)
Annihilatin' nouns and demolishin' the verbs
What you rappin' for? Better
Off polishin' a turd (Clean it)
Don't even try son, we're ready, you're wack
(yeah) so suck my python sweaty ballsack
It's fun to us
Illy rep for the Frankston line
BBS, the six hundred buzz (Yup)
Who are tellin' y'all "don't look"
(Don't look)
Illy and BBS got home-cooked raps as
Fat as a phone book (yeah)
What?

Don't look, don't look now (Rare MC)
Don't look now (Nude, Illy and Pea)
BBS and we're runnin' the town
Already at the throne so jokers
Give up the crown yeah

That was BBS crew, yeah
We've had enough of you
Apricot shirt wearing motherfuckers
Jesus Christ, I've had a jug full