Loop Scholars – Fat Caps Lyrics

Catch a tag
Roll a blunt up with wax
Take along drag
Before eye get in that ass
Not friendly
So don't ask me to pass the weed
Gradually get up around the city
While you sleep and snooze
Posted getting toasted
With a few of good fellas
Who's better
See my name wherever
You look
You shook you fake f*ck
You only tagging in a bathroom stall
And you call it getting up
You must jokin son
No ones gunna wanna
Pass they marijuana
To a mutha fuxkin chump
Eye won't pass you my book
Because I'll never get it back
Plus ya handstyles wack
And everything you copy
Always sloppy as f*ck
When will it stop? Maybe when you rockin dentures
You stop telling everybody else
Muthafuckin' adventures!

I'm busting "non stops" from bus stop to bus stop, gotta catch the 204. If you know then you know
Hop on the green line but in between time I'm scribing my name for fame even if the writing ain't the same
Get off Willowbrook to transfer to the blue line then to the red but that's all in due time
So before I get off on Union Station & get Picasso, I grab my black book just like a gospel
Nothing but lost souls in this vida, escucha la rima. I paint my way through just like Frida
Mira y todavia necesito que juntar me con un amigo artisto. Se le explico para sus hijos? 
So that they can grow up to express themselves & test themselves, you smell that wealth? 
It's called knowledge, Loop Scholar crews here to drop it. Can't stop it, can't top it like a Locus hit up
Fucked your shit up

It's five fifty one AM
Before he made music there's no way that you can play em
He was just another face
On the sixty bus
Hitting up
Getting up widda green color streak
Hit the street widda vengeance
Catching tags in abundance
Independent self funded
Type of muthafucka
Check it
Landmarks on the sidewalk
As you walk passed
Or scribed into tile
In the bathroom at Tam's
Even etched on the glass
On The laundry mat
Window Since oh three
Peace to da OGs
When eye needed a blunt
Or a place to crash
Eye was doing bad
There wasn't many
Eye can count em with one hand
Those the real ones
The real welcoming type
The ones that also back you up
If you ever in a fight

Im catching spots on hot blocks where cops try to stop shop
Top that homie in all caps
Coming for all caps like doom, there's no more room for your name on the wall
Call yo homies, catchin throwies on the lowkey. Puffin mad stogies, chugging mad 40s
Shouldn't have brought yo bitch because she had to blow me
Sykadelix got the backpack full of streaks, cans, acrylics. F*ck a ticket, I ain't tryna visit no prison
Listen to the visions of a street artist, hidden in the Garden of Eden
We starving not eating, when it gets dark we start thievin
Leaving your walls full of art from the heart, spark a blunt in the park when it gets dark
It be the shark so f*ck the system
Kill em' with the rhythm that I hit em with just like villain
Spillin paint, my name is Angel but ain't no saint
Im smokin that Mary Jane just to ease the pain, just to maintain