Fists Up (feat. Vicc)

Why these boys wanna test my patience? (Why?)

They all basic, they talk tough on the 'Gram all day

Then when they see me up close don't say shit (Pussy)

I swear I'm not on no gang shit, but try me and you'll leave with a facelift (Yeah)

Four-three, we're known to be majors

Don't never come with that fake shit

If a scrap goes down in the hood

Even on a sunny day, I'll storm in

I coulda sworn they were missionaries

'Cause whenever we pull up, they call more men

'Cause they know my team got that form

When they see us swing like Greg Norman

And if they wanna come to my ends

They have to know that that's my call like Jordan

No time for the chit chat, call me DigDat

'Cause me and my bro did tactics

These facts talk tough like a car in drive

'Cause I swear on my mum, they can't back it (Bang)

We stay active, tell 'em all come 'round (Pull through)

No shiv in his chest but a fist to his head

Is enough to get a man down

Fuck these clowns, tell 'em all drop now

If I gotta go get 'em, who say less?

No gat, shank, fuck that, fist up, also we keen for the mess (That's us)

Got one here, no need for the two

Old mate right hand put you to rest

That four-three to that fitu, fitu, I hold it down for my set

Fuckin' oath, listen

Fitu, fitu, go get 'em, who say less?

No gat, shank

Fuck that, fist up, shut up, we keen for the mess (Of course)

Got one here, no need for the two

Oh, my lefty put you to rest (Always)

That double seven to the four-three

I hold it down for my set (Aye, Victor, tell them though)

H-H-Home of the brave, land of the Gs

If you want that beef, better tread carefully

If so, my team'll go get that

We pull up, they gone like Snapchat

This fist goes up, better hack that

Fuck that, tell them dogs come catch that

They talk but they never act

'Cause I ain't no mullet 'cause I never hang back

Now we send 'em to a fat line, put it on repeat

Them boys like talkin' 'bout takin' trips

But they always skip my street (Goddamn)

When they come around to throw down

Guaranteed ain't gonna stop till he hits the concrete

Best believe when I leave I throw my sevens up (Heads up)

And shout out Inala G’s

Gettin' shit done in the state of Queens

Fitu, fitu, go get 'em, who say less?

No gat, shank

Fuck that, fist up, shut up, we keen for the mess

Got one here, no need for the two (Aye)

Oh, my lefty put you to rest

That double seven to the four-three

I hold it down for my set

Fuckin' oath, listen

If I gotta go get 'em who say less?

No gat, shank

Fuck that, fist up, also we keen for the mess (Let's go, aye)

Got one here, no need for the two

Old mate right hand put you to rest (Oi)

That four-three to that fitu, fitu, I hold it down for my set

Listen

I got thuggos in the seven that fear no man, straight locked or lackey (Always)

Got hammers in the four-three that'll feed y'all like aunties at a gourmet (My man)

This is Brisbane, we're different

We don't roll around with no weapon

Trust me, we don't need a shiv when we got two fists

Just find a bloke and then step him (Of course, ah)

Don't talk to me about cheffin'

Unless you spend your life in the kitchen (Aye)

Don't talk to me about weddings

Unless there's a bride and groom and they're kissin'

Don't talk to me about bootings

Unless you're talkin' 'bout a conversion

Four-three, double O to the double seven

My usos puttin' that work in

Aye, toko, let's tell 'em real quick

Pinkies up to the Heaven

That seven, my brethrens

Got your boy, that's leverage

If not, then we swing like a savage (Swing!)

Who's got a problem, who's got a issue?

Better speak up now

'Cause the Gs from Inala

And forty-three, we hold it down