Street Trash in 3-D, by Street Trash

Street Trash in 3-D

by Street Trash

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Full Digital Discography

37

releases

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Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of DECADES OF AGGRESSION, Street Trash in 3-D, KeyFob (SINGLE), MALICE, The Midnight Mass E.P., Tales From The Mix Tape vol.3, North of Hell, The Corrupted E.P., and 29 more. , and , .

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1.	In This Corner... 00:57	info	buy track
2.	KFA(Keep Fucking Around) 03:53	lyrics	buy track
Keep Fuckin’round & you’ll find out… (V1.Burt) Hey Guy, I’m not that guy I don’t fold so please don’t try Gold and platinum multiplied Some suckas stepped and suckas died Trash back and never sorted Forget what the news reported Arts and bidniss all get sported Grimy fitness we record it Yo, yer perfect for a snack In my face and super wack You hit first well I hit back And you will not survive my smack I’m walking the talk and I’m glockin the flock The Burt and the Fred, the Kabal and the Mach The awe and the shucks the awe and the shock The fins and the sawbucks I keep in my sock You propagate the hatin always waitin for a letdown I’m setting down the sound allowing tetes and vets to get down Luck you always pushin it, face I’m always mushin it Broke down couch slouch I ain’t about to cushion it Back of the line I’m the Mandolinorian Back to 89’ in my finest Delorean I shoot and I score again, you make with the air ball I’m the A-Hole gone AWOL put you through A WALL Keep Fuckin’round & you’ll find out… (V2.Fred) Pushing you through sheets of dry wall 1-6 syllables then eat your eye ball Still prescribing inciting when I’m arriving Booting fool biters who are rather conniving Call it bad timing, a mad man climbing Back into insanity’s saddle & battle rhyming Tattle tale nation, rat out your neighbor Instant gratification, combatting pure labour A wise man once said “fuck around n’ find out” Stride in my homestead, buck ya clown mind out Or I can punt you straight through the window Or Louisville bunts break through your shins though Ultimate sin, with the devious grin Ain’t even worth the time for words so fuck your tedious skin Because I told you before, so I’ll tell you again son I don’t start trouble but I’m known to end some Known to burst your bubble boy and then some referendum, voting to bend one Backwards in half like I’m Jason Voorhees Cracking up laughs spiking face with door keys Fork in these fools, like my name was Abby Carving with tools getting jabbie-stabbie Bleeding on the night sleep hugging the ground You really wanna find out? Well, keep fucking around! (OH YES!) (V3.Burt&Fred) Fuck around, find out, Trash joints get signed out We blow your mind like a landmine, time out Why? Why not? Filthy like Lynott Jailbreak fucker, Boys back and I got Fred yoooo, and Burt yoooo I’m Bane yo, I’m his co-Bain like Kurt yo Wanna bother? With the fathers? We the scum getting hums from yer daughters Ruthless & roofless, Truthful and toothless You act the goof and we bake you like soufflés Soufflés, vocal booth blaze Six feet deep where your suit lays! You push luck, so we push back You attempt, so we attack You drop rhymes, so we drop bombs You catch flack, while we cop moms (OH YES!) Keep Fuckin’round & you’ll find out…
3.	BFFs 03:42	lyrics	buy track
(V1.Fred) I’m fixed up, flipped up, underfed & fed up Fizzing up fun fatal concoctions to fuck my head up Freezing cold, I feed the snow Fiendishly froze, in a B-Boy pose I found the foundation, funds are unfounded Fingers up your females fanny find her dumb founded Fuzzy black fade for-see future when I’m snoozing Full steam fidelity now introducing… A barn burning brawl at an arena near you Fabulous Fred & Burt The Butcher, tag team of the year, true! But I block like Billy Smith & B will score like Mike Bossy I’m more like burn out Floyd on bass, he’s more like Fozzy Feeling fries at Five guys & got flocked by French guys I five finger filet fuck-faces chopped to French Fries Fork in em’, kill hurt, bash in your bitch head Unforgivingly still Burt, & bastardly still Fred (CHORUS x2) Burt with the Bidniss, Fred with the Fitness Both got busted, Fingering the witness Fred fucked the bailiff, Burt fucked the jury Batten up the hatches, Fatty snatchers getting blurry (V2.Burt) Basically I’m bombing barely balling on the beat scene Barfing out the beats & blessing Bettys out they blue jeans Ballyhoo bravado and the boys are back behind us Bench brawling bullies on Broadway you’ll find us Bottle breakers, the B boys and bakers The Bunsen burnin’ beakers barking bullshit from the bleachers We the Beach bums-a-bleachin’ barriers we breaching Bodyin’ buffoons, byotch get beseeching (That’s a whole lotta B’s muthafucka blah blah blah….) Beelzebub boasters bagels in the toaster Beans on the back burn, the back bacon roasters Bow to the bump yo we bringing all the biz Chirps from the back row burps from the fizz Beer bongers, baking up a big batch of bubbles Banknote bandits balls deep in trouble Barred from the barbershop, the bar-hoppin barons With Bedlam for blocks with the boombox a-blarin’ (with the…) (CHORUS x2)
4.	Crash Decisions 04:04	lyrics	buy track
(V1.Burt) I…Got no Cream but I’m pure dessert Hit the bash with a baggie fulla stems and dirt MC am I people call me Burt And when I crash the party all the fools get hurt Born with the sock hop radar the insight The block rocking Neymar I got no invite In sight lock and load loose a clip You gots a table that’s a table I’ll flip I catch the scent of a jam and go Shaggy Floating feet through the sea nose’ll drag me “Hello My name is” stickers in my pocket Three square feet of dance floor, I rock it I ain’t met a mini bar yet didn’t do me Your roomie he knew me “he died, yo” sue me Me at the hot spot is win big level Fuck party animal, shindig devil (CHORUS 1) Bums n GOATS just drums and throats Trash gonna crash all the pads and boats We the baddest blokes with the maddest notes Dad jokes smokin tokes in plaid cloaks When the fad is broke well we the man you poke And if yer fam is woke, hell I’m planning smoke I give your nan a yoke and then I scam a coke So hit the fan or choke and lemme croak…. (V2.Fred) Feeling fucking froggy because we’re crashing your party First I freshen up, a puff & splash of Bacardi Unfortunate for you like the finger poke of doom I’m the dude in the corner who be smoking up the room Choking up a cutie who could suck me on the spot here Approaching nervous asking how the fuck I even got here? It’s none of your bees wax, she’s on her kneecaps & you looking like a bitch so I’ll just hit you with B slaps & if you’re dumb, you’ll ask why Hit one punch your fool ass flies Kool-Aid guy when I’m breaking your walls down Like Youth of Today, but I’m 50 & fall down Drunken in a stupid stupor kicking with my feet Jumping in a stolen Uber sipping Sneaky Pete With a trick up my sleeve, Brother Burt he frowned to speak… “Why the fuck did we leave?” Another party down the street! (CHORUS 2) Bums n’ GOATS just drums & throats You picking through our literature for crumbs & quotes & when it comes to smoke, I only blow best dope This is for the hobos & the homeless folk So take a moment for casualties, who croaked to tragedy The code of the trash of streets, so full of savagery & that’s my steez, spliff in hand I breathe So hit the fan or leave and lemme wheeze… (V3.Burt) And I be in yer robe and I be on your phone And you can roam the globe and I be in yer home And I be in yer fridge and I be in your bar And I be throwing up inside the family car And I be in your bed and I be in your mom And I be in the zone and I be super calm And you be super pissed I be duper fash There’s party in the hood, yo, Trash Gonna Crash! Back in 98’ I was on display Open bar at my girl’s soiree All her work friends she wanted to impress And me with a backpack full of sess Well, I proceeded, bowls got heated I took a piss down my pants all pleated Puked on the buffet, shit in the yard You throws a bash? Well the Trash goes hard (CHORUS 1) (V4.Fred) I be kicking table legs, displaying my psycho ways I be all up in your kitchen blowing shit up in your microwave I be the fool who be eating all your food I be the roof jumping cannon baller peeing in your pool Be the Hurricane Theo, be Godzilla Monsoon, I be the Terror coming condom breaker in your Mom’s room Be the baddest of the bunch, be the life of your party Be the one flipping birds, with your wife on your Harley Back in 88’ 7-11 was the place Packs would congregate & there was heavenly dames We would smoke & drink, while we lay in wait & when the in-crowd split, then we would chase the bait Escape the tailgate & lead us straight to a bash Acting like I’m invited, but you know I came to crash Never the less the last laughs once I pass your door frame Your pad in more flames to ash from War Games (CHORUS 2)
5.	Bappetite For Destruction 06:21	lyrics	buy track
(V1.Burt) Flow? Check it, gold bars I got em’ Hop scene wrecked from the top to the bottom & the phone books shiver see the lyrics getting ripped Tinker motherfucker you’se about to get gypped I flip dumb fucks with the tongue twisting nunchucks The fun buck it stops when I pop lungs and rake muck You fake fucks are fickle, the trash friends are fiends We spit ‘cycolpedias and shit magazines Words are my weapons books are my bunkers Roll with the Hair Poss, the Rock Ons, the Funkers & No style’s a stranger, file under Danger Step into my woods yo yer gonna need a ranger Brained ya, shit on yer chest and fuckin stained ya My math gets scary better carry the remainder I’ll flunk a fuckface faster than a flash card Straighten up n’ fly right or crash in the Trash yard (CHORUS) Call all the nurses, doctors and hearses Surgeons and virgins get served by these verses Clutch pearls and purses here come the curses Run you fucks over the truck then reverses Priest for the last rites beast mode we blast tight Feast on the feets yes we steez by the gaslight Mettle and we just might settle for an ass bite Classic not classy Bizarro DiBiases (CHORUS) (V2.Hefty/Wizzy) Straight outta left field the left side my brain has been left sealed 1200 days with so many ways to harvest this deadly yield Concealed, my mind is a weapon of mass obstruction A superiorly classed production of orgasmic verbal seduction & I’m uninspired and tired of the quire of rappers required to be admired on the map of desired fire when prior to the mad style of the 7’s spoken guile hip hop wasn’t just dying it was steeped in denial Yeah yesterday existed but I don’t have to list it Don’t sell the past while tomorrows flying off the shelves I shoot these mouthpieces then I cut em’ up Stop the red button to shut em’ up Clean em’ up so they can’t interrupt Your future with no answer how to fix it No one’s looking at themselves but you click it Be your own tomorrow brick by brick it Live in the now you get fouled then free kick it & don’t care if you’re invited to their picnic (CHORUS) (V3.Bronson) Yo & if ya that concerned about other people's opinions Then I can guarantee ya bank account has one zero in it Lying through ya teeth you just tryna’ play the hero with it Can’t bring the heat cuz you ain’t got the Dinero in it I'm so feral with it yo I’m like an animal damage ya As you panic my mans will break out the camera, yo Shred you solo like Panama switch the pain to wrath Red and white lashes im slashin’ like Van Halen’s axe So perturbed I'm like the nerve that makes your brain react Yo I got you stressin like that burner that you paid to wax Ass backwards these wack rappers I shave ya wage like tax Yo believe it roll with the demons that what this rage attracts Run the city so I had to build the tracks Until the Lateral collapse it’s no pity like old fitty You grandpa with the raps you face the giant defiant Don't even save the date snake I bet you flake like psoriasis (CHORUS) (V4.Bill the Cop/Nick Duran) It’s been 20 years but now I’m back I’m like a phoenix rising from the ashes, ready to attack Nah, I’m kidding. I’m 40+ and growing the grays toddler hangin off my hip for half of my days Yeah, I’m getting older but I’m still a soldier and some say that age is in the eye of the beholder I’m still spittin dope rhymes, still hittin punchlines Burnin all the them sucker Mc’s and leavin tan lines You next best god bless (oh yes) Usually overcome with great success I break necks and sleep in sheds My flop? Your solarium when you’re at the lake I pawned your rake, my clothes disintegrate Decrepit man cruff, grip fliff quick & rip unsolicited scripts, I flip sick Original itinerant, most belligerent Feed on my steez G’s and follow with a dinner mint (CHORUS) (V5.Fred) Kicking a few bricks while I sift through the rubble Pissing on the precipice who gifted you the trouble? Some are at the gate & soon some will cook in Hell Another Mother at the wake because her dumb son took the L There’s no flattery in nagging to battle me I’m like a stray alley cat so put me in a bag and rattle me Throw me in the pit & watch me make a lot of room I be going ape shit because I got the boom boom(bap) Bappetite for destruction… For shit to get a bit more lit, y’all gotta commit B&Es, burglaries, & grand larceny But when the smoke clears & you appear you’ll stand heartlessly I hand art in the trash can, set ablaze Keep it 150 proof, truth nowadays Always gotta go Berserk mode, never giving no fucks though Because I wanna blow the world up like Techno Destructo (CHORUS)
6.	Po' Boys 03:27	lyrics	buy track
(V1.Burt) Punk, the vet gets to foaming Slicin’ up grown men though twice as unknown then Dice ears off a Roman who’s lax with the lending Flow with the facts every moment I’m bending Showman attacks and there’s no man defending Snowman my tracks and I glow never ending Po’ man on wax but the snacks I be vending Satisfy souls, fuck bright lights and trending My verbs are herbal, my nouns nutritious My lines are sermons, takedowns are vicious Beats be delicious, flow finger lickin’ Fowl fucks plucked, duckin’ nunchucks and kickin’ Too wrong for radio, too right to quit I do right the shit that yer crew likes to hit ‘Hind your back, kid, potions the lotion in the basket So under, son, I look up at yer casket (Ooh, that’s way way way under) Pockets linty, rockin the Dinty More hints than a red tinted fish committee Commit Me, suckas tryna hit me Like I’m a log and all these troglodytes are tryna flint me They miss me, friend hug to kiss me Daggers at the ready but the backpack defends me Scrambling for dough all I gots what you lend me Offends me I’m sick as shit you canna mend me It’s tempting attempting to bend me to fence me Po’ but dense G heavy like Dempsey Jack dick not Patrick I gat quick Sad sack hicks in the guts watch em’ backflip Rap slick, still the coffers looking wack kid Offers coming in but yo the bottom line is lacking Packin’ lip smackin tracks from the heart yo Back wrecked & jobbin’ everyday to pay for art yo (V2.Fred) Knock your ass down, drop your glass jaw Rock a Dad bod, call me Mad Dog Swigging on Mad Dog picking padlocks Digging in trash bags nipping ham hocks 2 bums 1 bottle in a sandbox Another bash at the beach with the trash of the streets We Po’ of the poorest, No stroll in the forest In the concert jungle, stone cold & malnourished I shoot the gift, I loot your spliff I scoop some thrift, I use my grift Snatch tabs & run, conman to ex-con Flashbacks like Bronson back in Viet Nam Calm on the outside, burning inside Need a ride to south side I fucking jump the turnstile No bed, wrecked car or sleep in the gutter All I need a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter Walked down to Ed’s & swiped a bottle of Viper & swapped it for your Sneaky Pete A whole lotta bums pass the bottle in a cypher & now they all got leaky feet Drippy droppin’ bubbling fizzing Shit & slop & guts be pissing Hobo globs & Dayglo crimson Phone the cops but the they won’t listen Day old donuts by the dozen Way mo’ important than your cousin Blank with hatred they’re fuckin’ Dilberts I’m frankly still Fred, he’s bluntly still Burt Po’ Boyz, we be the Po’ Boyz S.T. Is the Po’ Boyz, we be the Po’ Boyz’
7.	Chill 03:17	lyrics	buy track
(V1.Fred) So many clowns now, drowned out, Uptown, downtown Somehow, Dumbfounded, they can’t find and answer Stressing every blessing until they give themselves cancer Now a Necromancer in antlers chanting banter & dancing Can’t save ya still, on your back sick in the bed awhile You’re finally chill, but on a slab kissing a necrophile Meanwhile, I’m like, beyond laid back Me never sweating anything is all straight facts I’m Super Chill like Clarke Kent in the Daily smoking 20 fatties No Lois Lane or Special Lady but I poke plenty baddies I was Chilly Willy chilling eating chili cheese fries Sealed a chillin’ little slimmie in my Billy Dee eyes See through em’ in 3-D, it’s sort of Yoda force So you can keep your HPV & your worry warts What you expect I don’t sweat shit and barely perspire And you know I gotsta chill until I’m buried, expired (HOOK) Y’all motherfuckers need to chill for rill The ill Dr Filth and Nurse Wretched with the scrip to fill Pay a buck, stay the fuck out my grill Yo guy we serious, chill Y’all motherfuckers need to chill for rill Fred with the sour cream Burt with the dill Chip dipping hippers ripping hoppers staying still Fuck Sisyphus you dissin this? Chill Y’all muthafuckas need to chill, for real Don’t incite us til’ were Tyson cus’ we’re licensed to ill If you pushing on my buttons g I’m mushing you to mutton meat Dude, seeeeeriously, chill Y’all muthafuckas need to chill for real Fred with a burp of herbal Burt with purple pills Feather ruffling the buzzards & your gizzards are our lunches Listen up chumps I’ll tell you something, chill (V2.Burt) Hold up, put your soles up don’t fold up Long drags indeed from the weed Freddy rolled up Life rolls you grabs you by the bell and tolls you Fucked up is a magnet ask yer whole crew We the opposite peep a chair and cop a sit Make each other laugh it’s the whole reason we be droppin shit True hero, the Theodoropolus He couldn’t give a fuck if anybody’s even copping this No stopping this, self-medication It’s a health situation vocational vacation The coolest dope fly motherfuckers we know You play men’s league, right? You’ll never make the show We keep gigging and giggling despite that And stay calm as fuck, why the hell you wanna slight that? Fight back? Nope! we too busy writing And wronging and songing (& don’t forget bonging!) Gonging ourselves off with ding dong behavior All dressed fuckers yeah we dabble every flavour yeah The savior saving y’all chumps from your stress Take 2 S.T.Deez nuts & 3 pounds of cess
8.	The YoPoPo 05:17	lyrics	buy track
(CHORUS x2) This sounds like a job for the YoPopo Yo You got the right, remain silent Not a bird not a plane just the YoPopo Stop wil’in less these blue boys get violent (V1.Burt) Block party stopper, better call the copper Packin up the Reggie’s I’ma smoke em’ like a popper Every tale a whopper, rhyme dropping show stopper Jackin even stevens from Spielberg to Cropper In walks a knownot hiphoppin robot Talking bout my mots all the vocab his flows got Shits about to go hot, fists high to and fro I don’t fuck around you try to clown me with the YoPopo The YoPopo, hip hop police Self appointed self anointed rap Cochise Full o’ shit fuckers on the fringe always creeping Perpetrating hate mate, straight gate keeping No uniform nahhh, they undercover scum Drop anything fresh out the cracks they come With the this ain’t that ain’t you ain’t a spittin Never seen a hot pot they didn’t wanna shit in Fuck yer badge I’m the baddest in the burbs Fuck yer clubs cuz’ I’m the maddest with the verbs Fuck yer boot yo I ain’t gonna lick it Fuckin shoot quick kid cuz I’m about to kick it Fuck yer rap laws and hip hop rules Cuz’ I’m the leader of the pack and I’m smacking all the schools Fuck yer judge puffy cuffs wigs and juries Black list me, missed me, meet fists of the fuckin’ furies (CHORUS x2) (V2.Fred) I bust through cuffs, can’t no cell hold me Your point of view sucks don’t give a damn what you told me You’re no puritan, swerving joints pulling in Samaritans serving me with an all points bulletin Feeling me or shat on me, it doesn’t really matter see I do this for my sanity and not for you to flatter me Keepers of the gate, creeping up with hate Stay on repeat & I appreciate the free plays Dying to create I got a blade of gold slaying foes Try & seal my fate, but as the old saying goes Opinions are like assholes & everybody has one Most are full of shit so you can go ahead and blast son Because I really don’t give two fucks Most of these critics won’t live it, true cucks YoPoPo wanna gotta trash funky Flow to beats on your head with a bottle of Brass Monkey You can’t police hip hop you can’t police rap Peeps doing shit they want & you’re sad to see that Haters hate though right? Prepare to paint more songs Because there ain’t no right and yo there ain’t no wrong Keep calm rapping away, clapping back on the attack of your lame ass Smack your hat off, snatch ya chain fast Trash of the streets, we the last of the free Do whatever we want & have the last laugh puffin trees (CHORUS x2) (V3.Paulie The Wino) A.C.A.B. A.C.A.B. all cops are bastards Pass me this mic and this rhyme flow I’ll master Think faster moving right past yer Lyrical gun in my hand when I blast’ yer When I catch 'yer they’ll be hell to pay Yopopo wouldn’t have it now any other way When you see them lights flash get the fuck out of the way If you see them coming for you It’s on your knees and pray Now who the fuck are you to tell me what to do I never take direction from dem boys in blue If it's Up against the walls, Then it's come and lick these balls You could never hold me in room with bars for walls so keep your little laws I’ll sharpen these claws I’m the one who’ll leave you with all those pretty scars make way for the new captain Let's make it happen You're flapping you lips when we know you’re steadily cappin You got the wrong reaction now it's time for some action You'll be the one now who’s left out in traction it’s a starts chain reaction With very little time for satisfaction I’ll break it down to fractions You made the wrong transaction This is interaction means addition by subtraction Well take over the world with this new world order faction i swear I didn’t try and break the law, just kind happened? (CHORUSx2)
9.	Rags to Rags, Too 03:03	lyrics	buy track
(CHORUS) 1 Chubby white guy with a beard and a dream 1 skinny white weirdo, goat looking mean Got a raison d’être, blaze you betcha Plays for days lay chumps on a stretcha Drop bumps the lumps seem to catch ya Dump bums but son we gonna get ya Latency? No lags, patients see toe tags Street Trash mo rags and mo rags and mo rags [Pure shag and sipping outta bags Mo’ hags, tap any tail that wags Dope snags, been saving up for Zags Street trash go rags to rags to rags] (V1.Fred) I was born in dirt, I was born to lose I come from nothing I was born to hurt, I refuse I live to win for something Not the monkeys on my clavicles A matter of factual fool A Dummy for cracking rules & batter with tactical tools Practical to gradually striving for a better me Talking bout’ a salary from climbing out the gutter Be no rags to riches, still be bagging bitches Until the magic switches, & then they’re dragged in ditches/ You don’t really need cash, with a pure & free heart & if you ain’t been street trash you sure ain’t street smart Charter hard times while I barter for my dark life Others might fly, I might slumber in the park, might… Snooze on a bench catch some zzzzzz’s in a couch store Chew that bitch Life’s snatch clean till’ my mouth sore Going for gusto and chasing for gold & the old folklore cliches we’re all told (CHORUS) (V2.Burt) I was born a nerd and I didn’t really change Scorn I heard but my soul I didn’t rearrange Kinda mangy, fine with the scruff Took all the guff and I shook off the rough stuff Scene shifter met with the Grifter Zin in the bins and some gin in the snifter Saw peeps reinventing their steezes I still flow like the Po bro of Jesus Burt Christ I deliver the hurt twice Shirts tight cuz I eat mad dessert, right? And all the pert tight titties got licked And all the dirt bag ditties got kicked Spawned two trashies, teach now my lessons Don’t step, keep fuckin round, quit Messin Mouldy like old cheese still we the OGs Bold in our tin crowns suckers never hold these (CHORUS) Pure shag and sippin outta bags Mo’ hags, tap any tail that wags Dope snags, been saving up for Zags Street trash go rags to rags to rags
10.	Quit Messin'(with the Trash) 03:33	lyrics	buy track
(V1.Burt) Two cans of grouches, ten cans of viper Fuck Donald D, Trash syndicate sniper Rowdy like Piper, crowd likes the cypher Said it before I’m the Fly Biz 4 Lifer Try me & I just might finish with a bite, cuz Owp owp, nom nom, say goodnight cuz Bottom of the barrel, Sodom and Gamaro I’m feral, apparently I’m robbing yer Camaro Bitchinnnn’, don’t even step to the kitchen Suckas go canary soon enough they go for stitchin’ Snitches, tryna throw shade on my riches Two vets’ a crew with two sets of gitches Hitchin’ yer horse to my wagon gets a dragging Paddle mother fuckers tryna sip from the flagon Imagine the tragedy, tag Fred and Burt’n Messin wif da trash old bags catch a hurtin’ (HOOK) We separate the great from all the wanna be…ST! We educate the haters cuz there’s gonna be…ST! We infiltrate the underground economy…ST! We flow this like Moses this hip hop Duder-onomy…ST! (CHORUS) Best guess the lesson and quit Messin wif da trash Spliff Smith and Wesson and we smoke yer sorry ass Sweep up yer ashes but we keep your clothes and cash Best get to steppin and quit Messin wif da trash (V2.Fred) Messing with the Trash? You’re better stepping to a leper Second guessing with your ass? Assault & peppering you schelppers Never not vibe-ing, sleek & dark See me walk by cross the street or sleep in the park Cuz’ who needs a band when the beat is going off on em’? Who need these hands when my feet gonna stomp someone? Who be the man sipping Diplomatico rum Pimping never simping still be living in a trash dump I’m really not one for boasting, a braggart But I railed your hot mom & left her soaking in maggots Choking my hazard, showed me that she dead rich Roped in your daughter, now she call me Daddy Fred, bitch Regan barf & shat your bed dressing Look if you really wanna do this I’ll get Martha Splatterhead messy Bless you with a snot sneeze & see this as my ending Best to stop please & seize M-E-S-S-I-N-G (HOOK)(CHORUS) Na na na na na na quit Messin wif da trash Na na na na na na quit Messin wif da trash Na na na na na na quit Messin wif da trash Na na na na na na quit Messin wif da trash
11.	Heel Turn! 05:00	lyrics	buy track
(V1.Fred) I was the luchadore you searching for yearning more hardcore The bell goes “Ding!” Fuck the ring I take you out onto the hard floor Pile drive like Ray “The Crippler” Stevens Slip in even flow DDT’s like Raven did to Dreamer Non believers find their femurs in a figure four leg-lock Big boss man raising hell in a cellblock Break you hook & shooting, stretch ya, holds until you tap Or make you look stupid just for opening your yap Laughing while I train, endorse the low blows Crack a smile at your pain but never corpsing in promos Never break kayfabe fingertips tape blades Abdullah the Butcher with the hepatitis trade game Embrace foreign objects, back handed instruments & slice you up worse than the mass transit incident No Polo with Johnny brood the flock like Scotty Levy Blackest Hart like I’m Owen because the hood fucking with me heavy I’ll take your title cus’ there’s fuck all else to do Suicidal homicidal genocidal like Sabu Your Baby face turns blue, swerving all ya, heel turns Spewing green mist & serving fireballing heat burns Smack you with a broomstick, smash you with an acoustic Slap Nuts, fisticuffs, stiff jabs & uppercuts Dodging botchamania, fatal chest chops “Kamisama” like Karl Gotch with crotch cradle head drops Big Dick Dudley with testicular fortitude Introduce your head to coconut like you was Jimmy Snuka dude I’m higher than Hayabusa, diving off a giant Buddha Zandig rooftop choke-slamming wife abuser If I could change a day I’d hide and wait for him to come & stick the fucking blade inside Invader #1 (HUSS!) Feel the furry boots like Frank Goodish I’m King Kong But never goin’ out as if my name was Benoit (Chorus x2) Lowdown dastardly dirty double dealers Bottom of the deck dudes dosing at the peelers Got em by the neck shoot first ask never Mad dad bad ass fast masked and clever HEEL TURN! (V2.Burt) We fucking figure five you til’ yer leg is gone Bumble Bee-yotch I gotcha like I’m megatron Transforming my hands forming uzis Dance floor suckers catch some lead fucking doozies Bruise like the Brody ruse like I’m Brady Rude like I’m Rick on my dick there’s a lady Lewd like a lecher, food like a lector Lex like a Luger, wrecked neck collector Inevitable victor, victor from that soap show Fishhooking motherfuckers then a lowblow Cuz I’m the no-no bro kiss and wink No one’ll miss ya when I mist ya like the Missing link Baron Von Raschke, sheik like I’m I-Ron Ted like I’m Bundy I count 5 and pile on Cagey like Fuji brains like I’m Bobby Meet me in the ring before I beat you in the lobby Macho like Randy Rock like Muraco Nacho like Chico get chipped like a taco Bam I’m the Gordy fab fucking free bird Rowdy like Rod always gotta get the last word Slick like a rev’rend rich like DiBiase More flare than Ric, classier than Blassie Slimy like Jake working angles like Kurt Brass knuckle suckers put em back in my shirt No need for belts all yer welts are my pleasure These pythons here way too big to fucking measure Toothpick flicker the original razor Dropping suckers on they necks like the blazer Fuck off I’m Volkoff and this is the anthem Stand for the flag, our names ya they chant them Street Trash chilluns, villains as such Black shirts and Camo blammo with a Camel clutch! (Chorus x2)
12.	Rebirf of the Sick(Trash Like Dat) 02:48	lyrics	buy track
(V1.Burt) Never caught glockin’ never cock blockin’ Ever crock pottin’ the feets and the stockings of Steppers onion broth chock with peppers So many docs in my stock it’s like they British lepers No need for a piece when yer greasy Finish motherfuckers and it’s easy believe me See me fear me don’t get fucking near me Stockhomey Syndrome when domes fucking hear me They start to cheer me despite the warnings Soon enuff things gone wrong then they mourning The loved ones snuffed like a catholic candle, Mathlete’s mantles full of full sandals Grime Minister, prime time sinister Bottom line signer, big cheese administer-ing Justice just us trust us to bust one Burt with dessert feed you six feet of dust cuz… (CHORUS 1) I’m trash like that, smoke hash like that, drop ash like that, I cop cash like that, I dine and dash like that, in a flash like that, I hide my stash like that, I party crash like that… spud mash like that, rock the clash like that, hulk smash like that, I fill the gash like that, I dish and slash like that, I be the bash like that, I rhyme rash like that, because I’m trash like that! (V2.Fred) Never not gifted, rob & shoplifted Can’t remember never not conning, not grifting Running in reverse & snatch your purse Never see me coming like The Flash, you curse Bratwurst for breakfast straight out the trash can Thin & getting slimmer thinner & straight out of cash man Home made of card board, bed made of hard floor My pillow is some Brillo & my sheet is a rusty car door & that’s not just because I’m “so damn tough” I’m probably half nuts from all the propane huffed Gas rags & stuff, glue bags and such Look strange & gruff, loose change I clutch Scoops dames that are drunk & take em’ back to the collision yard Another hardened hobo party running train position guard If the shoe fits the feet or the foot in the boot… “Treat em like a prostitute” (V3.Fred & Burt) Lookie here 5-0 is sniffing round about the still night Another dead hooker found down on the hillside Boss drops a wad with a nod and a glare Because they stay paid off, so the cops don’t care Now it’s back to business, brash decisions They whacked the witness, the Trash has risen Incidentally took the fall, so I’m yelling fuck it all, Because if it wasn’t for bad luck I wouldn’t have no luck at all bargain bin bumpers straight dropping thumpers Best watch yer dumpers plumpers catching humpers Janky like the matrix still hitting jumpers Wrecked and effective still shaking rumpers Chumps keep flossing, bling like a boss & Don’t mean nuffin’ if you stuffed in a coffin Shits sad yo yer flow needs some fluvox Steezed by some geezers in a blue box Cuz’ we Trash like that… (CHORUS 2) I’m Street Trash like that, I’ll beat your ass like that, I’ll eat your cat like that, I beat the brat like that, I’m talking shit like that, dropping hits like that, Tab in lip like that, man, I trip like that, Steal your bitch like that, until I ditch like that, I wield spliffs like that, & shield my lips like that, Skate & thrash like that, hate & bash like that, Forever crass & that’s that, because I’m trash like that! YA SLAGS! (as if you didn’t say “I button mash like that”)
13.	In That Corner... 00:46	info	buy track

about

Mach Spitz & Kabal are...

“Street Trash" IN 3-D

Starring:
Cory "Mach Spitz" McCallum as "Burt"
& Kevin "Kabal" Theodoropolus as "Fred"

Co-starring:
“The Flatbush Foot Brigade”
Tank Diggs as “Paulie the Wino”
Lefty Stubbs as “Hefty”
John R as “Wizzy”
Donny G as “Bronson”
CB Dollaz as "Nick Duran"
Mushmouth as “Bill the Cop”
Friendly Rich as “Surly Dick the Derelict”
Marty McFly as "DJ Discount"

produced & mixed by: Mach Spitz
co-produced by: Kabal
mastered by: Greg Dawson @ BWC Studios