Thirty years old and still stoked like kids. Writers United are back on the streets. There are haters to hate and there are cops to oppress. But we can't be stopped when we're here to express our voice on the wall. It doesn't have a face, it doesn't have a name. You may pass one level but you won't win the game. You may clean the wall or paint over the train but you can't stop the color rain. Writers United are back on the streets. 
 ... 
 It was a summer day, the sky was clear and bright as we were walking down the street, carrying our bags full of cans and caps, listening to the funky beat. The weather was so good and the paint was nice and the place was really ill. We did our masterpiece - it said  [bad word] The Police" and now that is how we chill.