[Verse]
Props to the lot, no fakin', no front,
Spit sharper than a roo's kick, huntin' for the blunt,
Kangaroo court, mate, I judge 'em on the mic,
Flow so venom, snakes curl up in fright.
Dingo in the dark, take a bite outta bark,
Aussie slang weapon, leave 'em lost in the park,
Boomerang bars, throw it, it comes back,
Heads spin like the wheel on a V8 track.
[Chorus]
Props to the lot, they ain't ready for the heat,
Props to the lot, leave their rhymes in defeat,
Props to the lot, every bar is elite,
Props to the lot, mate, I own every beat.
[Verse 2]
Spit slick, quick, call it Bondi drift,
Their flows sink fast, while I uplift,
Catch 'em slippin', koala grip tight,
Tree-top vantage, bring 'em down from the height.
No surfboard, but I ride the wave,
Lyrical riptide, pull 'em straight to the grave,
Croc jaws lock, snap shut on the bait,
This ain't a debate, it's a lyrical state.
[Bridge]
From Sydney to Perth, I bring the quake,
Melbourne to Brissie, no bars are fake,
Rap scene's plate, I just clear the feast,
And I ain't stoppin' till the noise deceased.