These Walls Don't Lie - Promoe

But you don’t stop

Then let the short shot

Production: DJ Large

And Promoe on the mic (on the mic, on the mic)

For all my people (all my people, graffiti writers!)

Goes a little something like this:

It was the last days of summer

Sun shinin' through the window

Life movin' real slow

You know how things go

His friends knew him by the name of Bingo

As he turned up the volume on the hot new single

(Turn it up son!)

From Looptroop his favourite rapgroup

He loved how they represented him yo

The graffyouth from the grassroots

He came from Sweden too

Felt proud when he played

his new friends the latest tunes

Check this shit out man

That he had to download

Cause his local recordstore

Was on the other side of the globe

They didn’t carry the stuff

But he felt it was okay to do

He spread the Troop’s message

All the way to Australia, dude

And man that couldn’t be wrong

When Long Arm and Freedom Fighters

Were his fuckin' theme songs

In the headphones those nights

He spent when he stayed up

Adrenaline Rush

When he entered the lay up, singin…

Bada papa papa…

You know graffiti won’t die, die

No, it won’t, aha

Because these walls don’t lie, lie (They don’t lie)

Come on

I’m dedicatin' this piece, aha

He said, to those DVSG’s

And stepped in with a grin and a boosted Kangol

Mimicking the king

With the ruler’s manners

Fresh dressed

In his newest shoes and flannels

Then began lettin' on

With the loosest cannons

Figurin' this’ll be my coolest panel

But when they see it all they see

Is just a gruesome scandal

Erasin' all signs of life

Callin the youth some vandals

They can’t handle the truth

So this is how the truth is handled

Deep into the music and his art

Man, his true love

Didn’t even notice when the train pulled up

Before the bloodstains faded

On the engine cooler

The very same train

Hit another writer: Olaf

On a different continental: Europe

But then they came to the same place,

That I’m sure of

In this world people always

Looked upon them as a terror

But now 50 000 chariots singin' the chorus, going…

Bada papa papa…

(aha, aha)

Graffiti writers won’t die, die, no

(I'm telling you)

Because these walls don’t lie, lie, no

(They don’t lie)

Come on

I’m dedicatin' this song, song

To those gone

Your memory live on (live on)

Bridge:

I know a lot of people

Including myself get uncomfortable

When people including myself

Get emotional

But I gotta be true to myself

And to most of y’all

Man I still got love

For graffiti culture though

A lot of people including myself

Get uncomfortable

When people including myself

Get emotional

But I gotta be true to myself

And to most of y’all

Man I still got love

For graffiti culture though

A lot changed from

The days of Spraycan stories

See me in the yard today

Lost like a freakin' tourist

And I don’t claim to know much

All I really know is

We were 17 once

Actin' like we were immortals

Fearin' no evil

People said we had no morals

That’s fine, their corrupt world

It really wasn’t for us

We just laughed at the bullshit names

That they called us

Hated us, we hated them

And both sides found out what a war is

We were winning in the beginning

Then found out 'bout the horrors

Don’t get me wrong my lover

Hundred percent, no less

Peace to my people

We grow with the knowledge

I bite on death same time

I’m playin' hardish to catch

From South Africa

Writers from New York

Australia, Spain, France

And Germany, up north

Still the same rapper tellin'

Cops to fuck off

And all my writers:

Survive!

This my love song to y’all

Bada papa papa…

You know graffiti won’t die, die, no

Because these walls don’t lie, lie, no

To all my people world wide, wide, yo'

All my writers survive