Forget your glocks, your techs, and your 4-5s,
We got double-barrels, muzzleloaders by our side,
We got tree stands, sniper rifles, perfect sights,
Bring your automatics, spray the scene and give us light,
We see you coming, got you running,
You can’t hide behind that frontin,
You can’t find that special something,
All your wars have got you nothing,
What you fighting for?! What you breathing for?! What you living for?!
What you out here mobbing and stealing and killing for?!
What’s to gain, you live in shame,
Think you the man cause you got game?
You insane, attain some knowledge, see the good that it can bring,
Pour these rhymes into they brain, have ‘em screaming bring the pain,
Pack the clip and pull it back and watch these words go with the aim,
Follow through, pay your dues, Never stop that’s what we do,
Grab the mic and bang the beat and spit until our face is blue,
One Mic the Crew, Mid-TN our town, BUNK’n’Bass that be our sound,
If you need to find us you can look into the underground.
Grab the mic and hit record, someone get behind the board,
Fire the beat up, let it bang and boom and shake ‘til early morning,
BUNKS are ready with those rhymes, lift your spirit, make you fly,
Bumpin to this music going to help you see the other side.
I’m going to take you to the other with my brother from another mother,
When you see us coming, its best to duck and run for cover,
You done heard what Smo been sayin, in the BUNK man we ain’t playin’,
We stay droppin’ knowledge and you know we going to keep it sprayin’,
Never understand how you could underestimate,
A movement full of people out here chompin’ at the gate,
You know we ain’t the only ones, just look at everything we’ve done,
There’s thousands of us out here feeling the same way, this ain’t for fun,
Represent the thousands out here feeling like we do,
Some may look like me and yea, some may look like you,
Just sick of all the day to day, the grind, and all the bull,
Trying to take this empty plate and work it ‘til it’s full,
With the country as my backdrop I’m going to take you to the BUNK,
I’ll tell you now that sound you hear ain’t always in the trunk,
These 4x4s and 4-wheel drives, keep this country out here alive,
Welcome to my city in the BUNK you on the other side.
Forget the drugs, the sluts, the cars, and fine clothes,
Your rims keeping spinnin’ but you never moving on,
Sold your soul for some bling, left a mama with your kid,
No respect for baby daddies who ain’t takin’ care of his,
You dudes are lame, you run your game, but never man up,
It’s a shame you want your fame delivered to you on a bus,
BET and MTV, yea your dreaming of the Grammys,
But you refuse to put in work, your life is just a hand-me,
Sell your soul to the devil boy the price ain’t cheap,
Dinosaur corporations crush your self under they feet,
See the signs of coming times, unravel ancient scripts,
Subliminals delivered to you when we drop these hits,
Bringing unmatched noise knowledge and sound, we stay underground,
Rumble through the internet in waves to praise the ways of days,
When all we had to do was play.
J.Smo has been releasing music independently since 1999, originally as part of BUNKS (Manchester, Tennessee). Now a father of 3, husband, CMO, COO, musicpreneur, and jedi-of-many-trades, J.Smo continues to share his journey in lyrical form.