This song reminds me of the true days of REAL HIP Hop

rowan and Seth

Telepathic Humans

Yeah…
We out early, no rest for the real
Kwinny to Nedlands 
Business moves, no fucking round’
Tick tick flip
No talk for the drip
Them bags get split 
We’ don’t follow rules 
We split and spit 

Let’s ride…

Splity and Jul’z on the Kwinny Freeway,
30K cash, no games, no leeway,
Nedlands plug got 10 for the low,
Pick up the pack, then we back on go.
Through Cottesloe, then Freeo quick,
Back to Kwinny, collect that tick,
Licks get hit, then the packs get split 
We don’t follow rules, we Splitt and spit.

Eyes on the road, soul in the grind,
Duffle in the back, still sharp with the mind.
Jul’z got the smoke, I’m watchin’ the dash,
Hood saints on a mission, just chasin’ that cash.
No convo in Nedlands just nods and weight,
Business clean, don’t test that fate.
Slide down Stirling, then curve through the coast,
Perth sun low, but we doin’ a big toast.

Burner stay buzzin’, the packs in motion,
Jul’z stay low, no talk, just focus.
Split that ten, half slid to Binki,
Other half moved through Rocko linky.
Freo we cruise, straight facts, no flex,
Just grind and collect no need for a cheque.
Splity run his play like footy in winter,
No smoke left just ash in the spinner.

Splity and Jul’z on the Kwinny Freeway,
30K cash, no games, no leeway,
Nedlands plug got 10 for the low,
Pick up the pack, then we back on go.
Through Cottesloe, then Freeo quick,
Back to Kwinny, collect that tick,
Licks get hit, then the packs get split 
We don’t follow rules, we Splitt and spit.

Early morning grind, no time for sleep,
Kwinny’s got my back while the city creeps.
Dodgin’ the po-po, eyes sharp like a hawk,
Every move calculated, steady on the walk.
Medina’s buzzing, streets whisper the news,
Splity’s got the burner, I’m makin’ the moves.
Clockin’ the score, every lick’s a win,
This Perth hustle it’s deep in my skin.

Night falls heavy, but the grind stays lit,
Kwinny lanes tight, but we never quit.
From Sulphur road to Gilmore ave, streets know the name,
Jul’z and Splity, runnin’ the game.
Cash in the duffle, smoke in the rear,
Eyes on the prize, no time for fear.
Tick burner hot, plans locked tight,
We movin’ weight clean, no shade in sight.

Tick for the flip…
No talk on the trip…
Money don’t fold, it stack and drip…
From dawn to dusk, it’s the same old hustle,
Dodgin’ the eyes, keep the muscle subtle.
City lights flicker, shadows get deep,
We play for keeps no time for sleep.

Split-teeee… and Jul’z… on the Freeee-way…
Thirty thou’ cash… ain’t no leee-way…
Nedlands plug… got ten for the lowwww…
Pick it up smooth… then we baaaack on goooo…

Cottes-loooe… breeze… Freeo drip…
Back to Kwinny… tick-tick… flip…
Lick get hit… pack get split…
No talk for the trip
Money don’t fold it stack and drip
We don’t follow nothin’… we Splitt… and spit.

Electric Relaxation

A Tribe Called Quest

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