[Intro: [?]]
You know, music always—nothing never stays the same, that's what I'm saying. You know, nothing never stays the same, so right now we're at the point where it's like, "All right, you still got... real people that took music seriously still living in the mix, in the days and times where all this bullshit is taking place, so we can go 'head and tell the difference.
[Scratches: DJ Reflux]
"Let’s—Let’s—Let’s go" "Y'all ready or what?"
"Hill—Hill—Hilltop Hoods"
"Funk—Funk—Funkoars"
"I'll take a body count, I know my body count is right"
"Yeah" "Let’s—Let’s—Let’s [?]"
"My body count is right"
"[?]"
"Got five MC that wanna contest we"
[Verse 1: Hons]
Ask the bookies, 'Oars picked the dollar one favourite
To top all your playlists, still R rated as hell
Not for the kiddies I tell
You know all about the city I dwell
It’s a dirty South Adelaide, home where the heart is
Gave all to music so I roam with the martyrs
Lived next to Buffa, he showed me Bodycount
15 years later and it’s more than just a hobby now
More than just a muck about run-of-the-mill
Stamp our name on the scene like done on the pill, shit!
The [?] of rap so kudos to that
Lost my mind and it ain’t come back
Swear to God that I ain’t got a cell left
Sex sells and we can always start with my bellend
Well friends, I guess we back at it
We supply the demand, here's the dope for you rap addicts
[Verse 2: Pressure]
You and Pressure ain't the same type, you ain't like me
You can find me where the late night and daytime meet
Start a riot like a hate crime, then take my leave
I'm sick to death of being positive like HIV
(Classic P) Y'all ain't here to listen
But you tap into my lines like News Corp and fear admission
Sheer precision differs from my peers admission
Driven by the next hit like a rear collision (Come on)
We on the conquering grind
Not a sign that these rappers are deaf, they only robbin' the blind
Don't wanna find or hear my name dropped in your rhyme
Champagne tasting [?] you're crossing the line
Ain't nothing to me, the martyr of another MC
We ain't steppin' on them toes, it's a crushing defeat
Up in this beat with the 'Oars where there's something to see
Suffa, Debris, let it be, you ain't fucking with me
[Scratches: DJ Reflux]
"Let’s—Let’s—Let’s go" "Y'all ready or what?"
"Hill—Hill—Hilltop Hoods"
"Funk—Funk—Funkoars"
"I'll take a body count, I know my body count is right"
"Yeah" "Let’s—Let’s—Let’s [?]"
"My body count is right"
"[?]"
"Got five MC that wanna contest we"
[Verse 3: Trials]
My name is T, learned to Logic through Debris
Now I do the beats with the style and do the E
Skip the pleasantries when I'm in the city streets, baggy
Can't hide nothing in skinny jeans, I'm saggin'
Calling me a bastard is bragging
Fuck all that new shit, slap 'em with a parrot, wonderful plumage
(Can't do it!?) When they feel safe playing their tracks
Amongst they friends, taking it there, I'm taking it back
So bring 'em round pal, tell 'em Trigga's in the booth
X-Rays the next day, a little fingers in their womb
Mmm, you can smell it, work three years
On a release, you email 'em to your friends and D-L it, so it's on
[?] megaton nuclear bomb
We all love them rap songs, but you doin' 'em wrong
I hit the radio, go! Dust off the dials
You can always fuck around, pro'bly just not with Trials
You go
[Scratches (Condensed): DJ Reflux]
"Y'all—Y'all ready or what?"
"Hill—Hill—Hilltop Hoods"
"Funk—Funk—Funkoars"
"I'll take a body count, I know my body count is right"
[Verse 4: Sesta]
Wuss, my intentions is iller, dinner?
Great big bottle of painkillers
When I come around someone in Manilla
Saw a whole fucking prison dancing the "Thriller" (what?!)
With a self-deluded attitude
Doing it better than you is up my avenue
I don't know a rapper who do it better than Adam, Dan or Matthew
Prolly drinking Sprite with Malibu, problem is
(What!?) You prob'ly paying to an arsehole
Not in demand, but your heart's whole
You dumb as the motherfuckers you targetin'
Never be an artist, but you're marvellous at marketin'
We took the hard road like Hilltop
With an army of lunatics, just like Hillsong
Hands in the air like they feeling the pill drop
And watch 'em go down, down, down
[Verse 5: Suffa]
Well jump on it, snap an ankle
Flux you get 'em with the hand skills (Classic Example)
Ayy, we up, [?] content of your [?]
So ease up, they call me that E cup, I'm a handful
You making records I've seen in landfills
While I'm catching wreck like a train that is leaving Granville
Station (All aboard) Scramble
When you're in the place and all aboard standstill
You gotta get them out their shell like escargot
I got beats that make retailers break the embargo
I got my eyes on a narco
'Cause I see Vents One racking up lines like a barcode
Got Fuad the famalam, Honson the gambler
Hunter out west, I got Hauie up in Canberra
[?] grandma, man, I got
Two black eyes to have ya lookin' like a Panda
[Scratches: DJ Reflux]
"Let’s—Let’s—Let’s go" "Y'all ready or what?"
"Hill—Hill—Hilltop Hoods"
"Funk—Funk—Funkoars"
"I'll take a body count, I know my body count is right"
"Yeah" "Let’s—Let’s—Let’s [?]"
"My body count is right"
"[?]"
"Got five MC that wanna contest we"
