A gang member is just starting to talk when he's cut off by his friend.
"It's basically kill or be killed, 'cause-"
"Don't. Nah," the friend says.
"Don't do that shit. Not on camera. Do not do that shit."
They're part of the gang ML60. Fighting for their Western Sydney turf is everything.
"Our area is our family, anyone that goes against us is going against our family."
Sitting in the stands of an empty Merrylands sports field, they list off offences their members have been charged with: affray, grievous bodily harm, armed robbery, carrying weapons.
"Mostly knives, hammers," a boy says.
"When it involves violence, usually ends up with blood spilt."
This conflict over turf is claiming young lives on Sydney streets — six people have been killed in the past four years.
'There's a war going on'
Another part of Sydney's west. Another teenager.
Dmonzz stabbed a young man seven times in the neck, chest and back with a box cutter last year.
"It's either me or him. He's in the wrong area at the end of the day," he says.
Dmonzz, whose crew is called Any Means Necessary, says taking the train to an area that's not his can be dangerous.
"There's a war going on right now."
"Everyone knows which lines to take. If you're willing to go that way you gotta be prepared to go to war."
"Everywhere we go's a risk. You could go down the road and might bump into someone."
That's what 19-year-old Dmonzz claims happened the day of the stabbing.
CCTV shows Dmonzz and a friend approaching the victim and asking where he's from. Then the attack begins.
He says it was over a "personal beef" and that the 20-year-old he stabbed had "drama with my boys".
"We don't really have much out here, we don't have the money. We grew up with nothing."
"What do we have? Just our boys and loyalty."
Would he think twice before doing it again?
"Not really … My brothers are my brothers. Loyalty stands. I would like, you know, make sure I do it better next time," he says, breaking into laughter.
The stabbing left the victim in hospital. It landed Dmonzz in juvenile detention for a year.
Five months after getting out, he says he's trying to improve his life. Trying to steer clear of area conflict.
"I'm just tryin' to stay away from all this bullshit. Music gives me that, the freedom."
The music he's hoping can give him that freedom is drill – a sub-genre of rap which originated in Chicago. Authenticity is prized, and lyrics include raw descriptions of a rapper's sometimes-violent experiences.
Rapping for his Instagram followers, Dmonzz references the stabbing:
"In the law we trust, but we first trust the stainless.
"Cut throat, in your throat. Leave the scene, tape it."
He says the violence in Western Sydney's driven by personal disputes, but also old rivalries.
"It's always been around even … way before my generation, this area thing's always been there."
"Western Sydney, we do have a dark past, you know, it does run deep."
'Something to die for'
Franny Loco knows how deep pride in an area can run.
"You fight for your area. As dumb as that sounds to most people, for us out here it's something to die for."
"I've never felt Australian and I was born here, but I've always felt like Mount Druitt, this is my home."
That home brought with it a reputation and a defiant pride that has fuelled rivalries.
"Mount Druitt's always been popular for having the toughest area. Obviously, there's always going to be jealousy … people are always gonna want to test that."
"We feel like everyone looks at us like scum, and like povo, poor people."
"We're just like, 'yeah, that's us. We're proud of where we're from, you say all you want, but we're proud of this'."
Franny's been a gang leader most of his life. Violence landed him in prison and kept him there for almost a decade.
While locked up he founded the ruthless prison gang Outcast.
He says he still has violent thoughts, but credits his faith with changing him.
"I'm comfortable in my skin … I don't need to act tough anymore."
He now lives with his nan in the housing commission home he grew up in.
He calls his bedroom, with its scratched paint and a mattress against the wall, his "prison cell".
Franny says some of what's driving the postcode wars is the same as ever: "pride and ego".
"Everyone wants to be the toughest. Everyone wants fame."
He says it's the scale of the fame that's changed. Drill is growing, and everyone wants a piece of it.
"It's on a global platform, now everyone can see it."
"A lot of these kids want attention. A lot of a lot of kids want to be famous, and they will do anything to get it."
He doesn't blame people who rap, "they have the right to sing and rap about their life". But he says it's shifted things.
"These kids out here, [thinking] like … 'All I gotta do is go get a knife and be like these brothers in the local area and be a gangster'."
'You're not hearing no fake shit'
One man who's found fame – or notoriety – is rapper Ay Huncho.
The 25-year-old, whose real name is Ali Younes, is part of Sydney's notorious Alameddine family. Police allege parts of the family run a crime network that's responsible for drug importation, money laundering, kidnappings and public shootings.
"Obviously my family, they've all been charged. The majority of my boys are in jail and the news and Telegraph and all the media labelled ourselves as 'the most dangerous crime family in the country' and I'm part of that, allegedly."
"But I don't want to be known as that so I'm using my music to [say], 'nah I'm Ay Huncho I'm not in the mix of all this stuff'."
Despite this, his lyrics are filled with references ranging from postcode rivalries to gangland shootings.
Alleged "snitches" are named in one song, followed by "this 410 [shotgun shell] will blow off your head".
"We run this city" he boasts in another. "Bodies get dropped, don't be pushing my buttons."
Most of his videos start with a disclaimer that "all lyrics and characters are all fictional", but Ay Huncho is quick to assert his authenticity.
"When I rap, you're hearing realness, you're not hearing no fake shit."
The rapper says his career blew up when he recently got out of jail on bail. A combination of tabloid articles and his own TikTok videos raised his profile.
He’s pleaded not guilty to charges of affray, reckless grievous bodily harm and assault with the intent to participate in a criminal group.
It's brought him attention, but has impacted his career – bail conditions have meant he's needed permission from court to do a show outside NSW.
Ay Huncho's been getting unwanted attention from police for years. Standing outside his childhood home, he recalls "my first raid was here".
"They raided my house looking for guns. I don't carry guns. I've never seen a gun."
He says he's lost count of the number of raids since.
"I'll go to sleep every night thinking I'm gonna get raided the next morning."
Ay Huncho says he's respected in his home suburb of Merrylands, and claims he does what he can to improve its reputation.
"It's a good area, it's safe, we make sure everything's controlled there, you know. I don't like dramas, if there's someone I know that's causing dramas I'll go and speak to them, basically 'don't shit in your own area'."
Police have alleged Ay Huncho is key to recruiting young gang members into the Alameddine crime network to be used as foot soldiers.
"That is bullshit. There's no evidence on that," he says.
"There's no criminal network … that's something that the police have made up or the media have made up."
'His legacy continues'
Martin Muon lives with the consequences of violence on Western Sydney streets.
"There's no rule, there's no guidebook in terms of how to deal with losing a brother," he says.
Two years ago, his younger brother Mak was allegedly murdered.
On the night of his death, the 22-year-old took part in a home invasion allegedly targeting a member of a rival postcode gang.
Martin doesn't believe his brother was in a gang, but says there's still details he hasn't been told about what happened.
"Growing up, for most of us, it was somewhat – not necessarily hard to stay out of trouble, because it's possible – but you face a lot of conflict. Conflict leads to more conflict, unfortunately."
Just before his death Mak had launched a music career.
"He was very talented and he started taking things really seriously and wanting to focus more on his music as opposed to the distractions of life," Martin says.
Now drill is helping Martin process his grief.
"I found music to be the first thing that came and helped me. And I guess, from there onwards, led to me helping other people. I don't know where it's going to take me from there."
He works with teenagers and young men, bringing them into the studio to record, trying to keep them off the streets and out of court.
He set up Mak Studios in his brother's honour and raps under the name Just M.
"We're going to help as many people get out of situations that are holding them back to actually achieve greatness. So his legacy continues from here onwards."
'Our friend was snatched away'
Tragedy has also set Ouwais Menzel on a fight for change.
A year ago his best friend Jason Galleghan was killed in a violent attack.
The 16-year-old was allegedly bashed to death in a prolonged attack a magistrate has described as torture.
Graphic video of the attack was shared online.
"In the video that was circulated around he was told multiple times to denounce [a] gang … while he was still getting hit, he was told to denounce that gang," Ouwais says.
He says Jason was just "a normal kid" who loved the ocean and surfing.
"But that was snatched away from him, our close friend was snatched away from us, Jason was snatched away from his family, and his sisters, and a community that loved him so much."
Ouwais says he's scared of losing another friend. When he couldn't find any community organisations raising awareness and campaigning on the issue, he decided to set up his own — Youth Against Violence.
"I can't sit back and watch this violence occur and not do anything."
"I realised that we need change, and I'm going to try and be the change, if I can."
Acting Assistant Commissioner Jason Weinstein, who heads the specialised Raptor squad, says he's seeing violence from kids at a younger age now.
"We never used to see the gang mentality of violence that occurs today. We will see groups of four and five people attack one individual and they'll use their boots, they'll kick people in the head, stomp on them."
He says there's no one solution to stopping postcode gangs and their violence.
"This is not just solely a policing problem. There is an educational part that goes with it. There's a society influence that needs to go with it. There's a parenting component. There's a health component. There's a whole range of complex issues."
Watch on ABC iview as Four Corners explores the links between street gangs and some of Australia’s most notorious crime families and investigates the connections behind the recent spate of gangland shootings.
Credits
Story by: Grace Tobin, Mahmood Fazal, Naomi Selvaratnam, Patrick Begley and Annabel Hennessy
Photography: Brendan Esposito, Nick Wiggins and Shaun Kingma
Digital production: Nick Wiggins
