Paroles: Hilltop Hoods. Monsters Ball.

[Verse 1: Suffa MC]
Oh you sound like a bitch man
nymphos in your clip and disco riffs man
I'll you this ok it dont flip man
its like OJ, little glove big hand
step to this il take your miss make her twist and
moan I fucked with the pitch man
This land where the bricks stand,
On red sands, I spit grams of powdered Difflam,
To ease your muscle pain, do the hustle,
Came to tussle against the corporate gain man,
Parcels move train to plane in the struggle,
Markers give a claim to fame in the jungle,
Street revolutionaries, we the evolutionary,
Anomalies, but stupidly they try stopping me,
That?s only making me a martry we,
Like opiates in the vein, that attack the arteries,
Don?t get smart with me; I got a heart in me,
Like Pharlap, and gone so far raps now a part of me,
I got camaraderie, the great unwashed,
I got a heart in me that pump?s straight up scotch,
But crews still try to diss me, till I switch it on em,
Like they try to diss Fats, till they see a picture of him,
Big boys, aint small man, they tall and,
Ugly, want to cut me come join and join the monsters ball man

[chrous]

[Verse 2: Pressure MC]
These are the last of days a vast array
of fake fucks up in a masquerade
It's swim or drown we act we don't sink
It's primal instinct we rap we don't think
it's do or die dont turn our back like suicide
til your doin time with these cut throats in a suit and tie
so dont feed the animals, or act the fool
your just one man a young lamb amongst a pack of wolves
while your fighting over scraps and loose change,
and moot claims
pressures higher up in the food chain
small time predators rove in packs
thats why big time executives throw them scraps
so much static that this is such a hazzadus business
and havin to witness half these rappers are bitches
got me laughing hystericaly
Ive the heart of a pedigree
so pissing on the next man is just marking my territory
rivals will claim over head strong beef
and try fighting for fame on these slept on streets
while I'm sign up myname in the wet concrete
touching both sides of your brain when i flex on beats
and we sell the drumbs il see cowards hung
when my hour comes up rather catch a beat down than run
its just that honest i dont rap for these monsters
Id rather face the music than turn my back on yas