Our friend Pharoahe Monch (featured on 'State of the Art') is hitting Oz this month...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?..v=ZnqcoT46DA0

Don't miss the chance to see one of Hip Hop's most respected artists perform...

PERTH - Fri 4th - Villa Nightclub
BRISBANE - Sat 5th - The Zoo
ADELAIDE - Mon 7th - The Gov (ALL AGES)
SYDNEY - Thu 10th - The Gaelic 
MELBOURNE - Fri 11th - The Prince

Tickets available from...

http://tickets.redanttouring...com/default.aspx?Event=12370

When we recently regained ownership of our back catalogue we knew we wanted to do something different when we put the albums back out into the marketplace. Rather than just re-releasing our older albums as they were we thought, what can we do to make them really special?
On the 20th of November Golden Era Records will release Deluxe versions of 'The Calling', 'The Hard Road' and 'The Hard Road Restrung'.
The reissues will feature bonus tracks, new artwork, filmclips and each CD will feature a video discussing what the album meant to us as a group.

Features...
'The Calling Deluxe' (Originally released 2003)
- New artwork
- Bonus track 'Here Come The Girls'
- 'Testimonial Year' filmclip
- 'The Nosebleed Section Live' (taken from 'The Calling Live' DVD)
- HTH interview about 'The Calling'
'The Hard Road Deluxe' (Originally released 2006)
- New artwork
- Bonus track 'I Can't Take It'
- 'Clown Prince' filmclip
- 'The Hard Road' filmclip
- 'What A Great Night' filmclip
- HTH interview about 'The Hard Road'
'The Hard Road Restrung Deluxe' (Originally released 2007)
- New artwork
- Bonus track 'Roll On Up Restrung'
- 'Recapturing The Vibe Restrung' filmclip
- 'Unchained' filmclip trailer
- 'Breathe Restrung Live' (taken from the 'City Of Light' DVD)
- HTH interview about 'The Hard Road Restrung'

Visit our online store (http://www.goldenerarecords.com.au) where you will find both physical and digital versions of all three albums.

We'd also like to welcome Funkoars to Golden Era Record! Check out the superfriends Premium Edition of 'The Hangover' at our online store (http://www.goldenerarecords.com.au).

The second single from the Number 1 Platinum album 'State of the Art' is out now Australia wide. On the single Suffa provides a remix that delivers that distinct Hilltop sound.

BUY IT ON ITUNES!

Check out the video for 'Still Standing' at the Hoods very own Youtube channel...

WWW.YOUTUBE.COM/HILLTOPHOODS

Inspired by the work of Jim Henson, the crew at Mathematics deliver another stunning film clip.

AN AUDIENCE WITH THE DEVIL RESTRUNG

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis/D. Rankine)
Produced by Trial for Peepshow Entertainment
Written and performed by M. Lambert

Verse 1 – Suffa
I was granted an audience in the devils maze,
I sat by his throne and we talked for days,
He told me about his ancient battles with arch-angels,
He told me loneliness was the torture most painful,
He said if I filled my lifetime with sin,
I could earn myself a seat that was right by him,
And if I didn't, that was fine by him,
Cos everyday a million souls just fly right in,
He could barely keep up with the souls of all the people,
It's not easy being sole controller of all evil,
He said "So many people want to burn with me,
I swear free wills a bitch and so's eternity,
So what you learn from me might save you from suffering,
You don't want to see the bowels of the earth rupturing,
Take a breath, suck it in, I got more to tell,
And time's of no consequence when you're in hell."

Verse 2 – Suffa
I asked the devil to explain
Why I always think that people have it in for me?
And why I always feel like the sky's closing in on me?
This is what he said,
"The sky's not falling it's just angels committing suicide,
Cos they're so saddened by humans using genocide,
As a political tool, considering all you humans have,
The way you act belittles you all,
Now hell is so full that we started expanding,
Damnation is a business and the markets demanding."
I asked him if a city street buckled and cracked,
And hell rose to earth then would heaven collapse?
He smiled; I knew that smile was his response,
I thought to myself, he's almost got what he wants,
He said "I'll tell you my one desire,
That's for earth itself to become my empire,
Every politicians like a gun for hire.
Even the church of nativity's come under fire,
So you can tell I'm getting close to my goal,
Of creating a world where I can torture every soul."

Chorus
Sitting with the devil, this is what I learned,
Apart from the ways a human soul can be burned,
It's that though we learn from our mistakes we're condemned,
To make those same mistakes again and again,
Sitting with the devil, this is what I learned,
Apart from the ways a human soul can be burned,
It's that though we learn from our mistakes we're condemned,
To make those same mistakes again and again,
And time keeps, time keeps slipping away,
Like I keep, I keep slipping away,
Like time keeps, time keeps slipping away,
Like I keep, I keep slipping away,
Like time keeps, time keeps slipping away,
Like I keep, I keep slipping away,
Like time keeps, time keeps slipping away,
Like I keep, I keep slipping away, I keep slipping away.

BREATHE RESTRUNG

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis)
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Written and performed by D. Smith
Scratches by DJ Debris
Bass Guitar by Chris Lambert
Trumpet by Phil Ingram

Verse One – Pressure
In life, we struggle as individuals,
A fine line between a cliché saying and something original,
As if in death we left something residual,
Behind to mark our time up in this pitiful,
Existence and I'm a man of many issues,
If I ever dissed you, no disrespect I never wished to,
Hold a grudge the stress makes me act like this,
The day I get it off my chest I won't write tracks like this,
But I'll be bitter on them when all is done and is forgotten,
Cos it's easier to sit and complain than fix the problem,
But the power of speech empowers our beliefs,
With sour defeats, man nothing is out of reach,
Got plenty to answer for, all do is answered back,
Done a thousand things I regret, apologize for none of that,
So you get back what you put in no regrets,
And keep on until they know your sweat, you only get.

Chorus
One chance, so I live for the moment,
I'm just one man what I wouldn't give for this moment,
We got one world; still we take it in stride,
In this one life we stand still waiting to die,
One chance, so I live for the moment,
I'm just one man what I wouldn't give for this moment,
We got one world; still we take it in stride,
In this one life we stand still waiting to die.

Verse 2 – Pressure
Now if life is what you make it it's time to build,
Man I'm for real aint no telling what this life will yield,
I'm a career man, cos I career off any path,
That would lead me to a start of financial gains I'm scarred,
We learn from our mistakes, that makes me a scholar on,
Being a walking talking fuck up and a better man for being wrong,
I'm humble and loyal, my friendships are honored,
A mans success aint measured by the depths of his pocket,
I give good advice but never follow it, what's left for me?
I'm a hypocrite and if I weren't I'd be a success story,
View this wide world through a narrow gaze, these harrowed days,
Seen to many men end in a shallow grave,
I guess it's better to have loved and to lost, than never stumbled across,
The gift of knowing you what ever the fucking cost,
To put it in perspective and under my vision,
This world is superficial; I'm done with others opinions.

Chorus
One chance, so I live for the moment,
I'm just one man what I wouldn't give for this moment,
We got one world; still we take it in stride,
In this one life we stand still waiting to die,
One chance, so I live for the moment,
I'm just one man what I wouldn't give for this moment,
We got one world; still we take it in stride,
In this one life we stand still waiting to die.

CITY OF LIGHT RESTRUNG

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis)
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Written and performed by M. Lambert and D. Smith
Scratches by DJ Debris
Bass guitar by Chris Lambert
Electric guitar by Nick Lambert

Verse 1 – Suffa
I'm from the city of light, with a sky of vanilla,
Known as the city of churches home of the serial killer,
And in the summer it feels like a hundred degrees,
Where I'm from you might see Suffa MC,
Walking the traps trying to escape the map,
Ninety one was my shit I'm trying to take it back,
To when writers ran the line and transits ran the gambit,
My memories the paint, let the track be my canvas,
Thirteen sitting in a park, sipping wine casks,
Watching whole cars as they went flying past,
I couldn't paint so I rhymed to the writers,
They'd laugh, light up a smoke, and get blinded by their lighters,
'Nasty Arts' ran my line evading cop cars,
And we looked up to them like they were rock stars,
Paint stained hands and fame like Manson,
That's Charles not Marilyn, a city held to ransom,
Cans and markers, Country Road parkers,
Hands of an artist left the landscape enchanted,
Until the government pigs had all the paint washed,
From our city walls, end of the renaissance,
And so the walls where the colours once played,
Were replaced by the buff, now a sullen blunt grey,
White washed, shitty, all grey, all black,
Waiting for the kids of this city to take their walls back.

Verse 2 - Pressure
I'm from the city of light, with a sky of vanilla,
Known as the city of churches home of the serial killer,
And in the winter, the city sleeps dead in the freeze,
Where I'm from you might see Pressure MC,
Walking the traps trying to escape the map,
Ninety three was my shit I'm trying to take it back,
Got kicked out of school but I would have left in time,
With nothing but an ego and rap to get me by,
I swept floors, packed orders, when poor racked from Porters,
Liquor store just to score me a four track recorder,
Fifteen, sneaking in the back door to the gig,
Thought I could rip, bro trust me I fought for this shit,
Cos the city's darker than a starless night,
And treats a starter like a fresh piece of meat, greet the carving knife,
Till the day came when I'd scar consortiums,
I'd lay waiting, train stations and parks my audience,
Before we had our beats made, before we had a DJ,
We'd rock to a beat box, before that shit was clichéd,
You see mate, I refused to lay low and gave those,
Better years of my life to pave roads,
Live as hell, we did it by ourselves,
The only secret to this shit is one that time will tell,
So breathe in cos the city invites, jealously, pity and blight,
You're in the city of light.

CLOWN PRINCE RESTRUNG

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis)
Produced by Debris for X-Bred Productions
Written and performed by M. Lambert and D. Smith
Scratches by DJ Debris
Contains a sample of 'Laying Pipe', performed by Pornosonic.
Used courtesy of Virgin Monk Muzic (BMI) and Valley Entertainment Incorporated.

Chorus
It's your round if you're hanging at the back of the bar,
So just bounce like you're banging in the back of your car,
We turn it out, Hilltop; we've been down since,
Back in the days, I'm the clown prince.
It's your round, if you're hanging at the back of the bar,
So just bounce like you're banging in the back of your car,
We turn it out, Hilltop; we've been down since,
Back in the days when I was a teenager.

Verse 1 – Suffa
First up on the dulcet tones of the Gravy Bone Project,
Suffa MC came to take you home,
I drip lyrics like spit, spit lyrics like drips,
Into arms I'll lick your spirit with my miracle whip,
Whip, cos what I'm hearing's all shit on the lyrical tip,
Nah I aint feeling you kid, we gave you,
Something to jock, but it wasn't no thing,
Like Bobby gave Whitney a rock but it wasn't no ring,
And I'm a keep at em, crossing my fingers that eve,
Says keep Adam, I'm going down on Louise,
And I'm a wreak havoc, little man with a big pen,
I got dirty habits like a nun in a pig pen,
Like Drinking, smoking, cursing, sucking
Titties, representing the city that I grew up in,
We laid the path so you got a way in,
It's Hilltop; we're three stars like a Holiday Inn.

Chorus
It's your round if you're hanging at the back of the bar,
So just bounce like you're banging in the back of your car,
We turn it out, Hilltop; we've been down since,
Back in the days, I'm the clown prince.
It's your round if you're hanging at the back of the bar,
So just bounce like you're banging in the back of your car,
We turn it out, Hilltop; we've been down since,
Back in the days when I was a teenager.

Verse 2 – Pressure
Next up, when I get loose with no fail,
Appealing like the naked truth and the truth is for sale,
So when I leave yo, you're fucking with my pride I don't see though,
Typical MC, my nuts don't match the size of my ego,
I seize an opportunity cos they don't linger,
The glass aint half empty its half full that why I'm a table drinker,
Think you're on Pressures level? Only thing tight bro,
That you might show is dressed in several of your wife's clothes,
An arrogant fucker damaging suckers masterfully,
If I married your mother you still wouldn't be half of me,
You should run from me, fuck battling aint nothing sweet,
Cos I won't beat you to the punch I'll punch you to the beat,
Don't get offended by the rubbish that we pump in the street,
My foots always in my mouth I just cant stomach defeat,
I'm a master these until it's hard to breathe,
Its Hilltop, we're the first to come last to leave.

Chorus
It's your round if you're hanging at the back of the bar,
So just bounce like you're banging in the back of your car,
We turn it out, Hilltop; we've been down since,
Back in the days, I'm the clown prince.
It's your round if you're hanging at the back of the bar,
So just bounce like you're banging in the back of your car,
We turn it out, Hilltop; we've been down since,
Back in the days when I was a teenager.

Verse 3 – Suffa and Pressure
I'm smooth like Marlon Brando at thirty,
At my peak like Marlon Brando at fifty,
And I'm fat like Marlon Brando at seventy,
Fuck it; no MC could ever better me,
And half the time half my crew could drink the bar,
And half these cats aint half of what they think they are,
We independent, I'd sign on the line,
The day me giving you the finger is a sign of the times,
Their rhymes are designed to try diss us, but why diss us?
I don't rewind to try to find disses,
Man, I just recline and mind my business,
And I think in lines in rhymes, the rhyme stitches,
Up the minds of the lines of dimes and fine…
I pen letters that kill,
Then stab your neck with a feather until you've bled in my quill,
This veteran's ill, thinking you can better my skill,
You need medicine chill a Pressure vendettas for real.

Chorus
It's your round if you're hanging at the back of the bar,
So just bounce like you're banging in the back of your car,
We turn it out, Hilltop; we've been down since,
Back in the days, I'm the clown prince.
It's your round if you're hanging at the back of the bar,
So just bounce like you're banging in the back of your car,
We turn it out, Hilltop; we've been down since,
Back in the days when I was a teenager.

CONVERSATIONS FROM A SPEAKEASY RESTRUNG (Feat. OMNI & OKWERDZ)

(D. Smith/B. Francis/J. McDonald/M. Lambert/B. E. Peeples)
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Written and performed by D. Smith, J. McDonald and M. Lambert
Scratches by DJ Debris

Verse 1– Pressure
Let's get introductions aside,
Pressure, Omni and Suffa tonight busting the mic like,
Lately I've been hearing nothing but hype,
Pen's mightier than your sword? Then you'd be fucked in a fight,
From the point of the exact conception I've had perfection,
And you aint close to Omni even though you may lack direction,
I've got a good heart, but bad intentions,
Pressure don't need a map for reference I'm a man of legends,
I'll last forever like bad impressions,
Like the first night you cursed in adolescence,
The way I slam a sentence can panic veterans,
Some things are better left unsaid like anything that I have to mention,
My loud mouths my downfall it's doubtful,
I'll bite off more than I can chew cos I already got a mouthful,
Act like I astound yall, well I'm a scoundrel,
With enemies but cliché is a friend of me, I'm out yall.

Chorus
Pull up a chair, and kick your feet on the table,
Let down you hair, lean back in your seat if you're able,
We've got the Jazz, for your speakeasy conversations,
It's the universal language of relaxation.

Verse 2 - Okwerdz
The seas are combining, to breed an alliance,
It's not Omni it's Okweez on the rhyming,
Y'all need to be supporting these cats with a passion,
Instead of beefing about what accent they rap with,
As if it aint tough enough to come up with a record,
Just ask the hoods you really could suffer from the pressure,
You get it? It's hard let me tell you, mad at this era,
I wish fans in America were as hungry as they are in Australia,
I got the heart I won't fail you,
I got stuff for the broads, in the bars, and something raw for the fellas,
So recline back, just get chill with your style,
Ayo and why's that? Cos I'm sick of yelling so loud,
But I'm the hungriest alive kid the dude wont wait,
So turn your head for a sec and you might lose your plate,
So when Stockton meets Adelaide,
Fuck it; just bring the platinum plaques this way, okay?

Chorus
Pull up a chair, and kick your feet on the table,
Let down you hair, lean back in your seat if you're able,
We've got the Jazz, for your speakeasy conversations,
It's the universal language of relaxation.

Verse 3 – Suffa
I heard there ain't no party like an open bar,
We lay out rhymes like drinks for a broken heart,
Heartbreak like liquor in an open scar,
So bizarre, roll thick like smokers tar,
Tell me who can rock parties with no guitar,
And if I aint getting paid then I'm leaving in the promoters car,
Tell me who you know this far,
Gone, on till the moments…
Gone, on till the break of this governments back,
And it's on till my mates are all loving the tracks,
No thugs in his raps, no muggings and macks,
And no guns, just trying to get us up on the map,
Bust, Suffa on wax, trust it's on,
I'm trying to do for rhyme what digital cameras did for porn,
Born in a small town, die with a big mouth,
Hoods tore it all down, shouts to the kids south.

Chorus
Pull up a chair, and kick your feet on the table,
Let down you hair, lean back in your seat if you're able,
We've got the Jazz, for your speakeasy conversations,
It's the universal language of relaxation,
Pull up a chair, and kick your feet on the table,
Let down you hair, lean back in your seat if you're able,
We've got the Jazz, for your speakeasy conversations,
It's the universal language of relaxation,
Pull up a chair, and kick your feet on the table,
Let down you hair, lean back in your seat if you're able,
We've got the Jazz, for your speakeasy conversations,
It's the universal language of relaxation,
Pull up a chair, and kick your feet on the table,
Let down you hair, or just go put on a kangol,
We've got the Jazz, for your speakeasy conversations,
It's the universal language of relaxation.

MONSTERS BALL RESTRUNG

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis/A. Simmonds)
Produced by Simplex
Written and performed by M. Lambert and D. Smith

Verse 1 – Suffa
You sound like a bitch man,
Nymphos in your clip and disco riffs man,
I'll tell you this, OK, it don't fit man,
It's like OJ, little glove, big hand,
Step to this I'll take your miss, make her twist and,
Moan, like 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 martyr we,
Like opiates in the vein, 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.

Verse 2 – Pressure
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,
Its primal instinct we rap we don't think,
Its do or die, no turning back like suicide,
Till you're doing time with these cut throats in a suit and tie,
So don't feed the animals, or act a fool,
Your just one man, a young lamb amongst a pack of wolves,
So while you're fighting over scraps and loose change and moot claims,
Pressures higher up in the food chain,
And small time predators rove in packs,
That why big time executives throw them scraps,
So much static that this is such a hazardous business,
And having to witness that half these rappers are bitches,
Got me laughing hysterically, I've 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, signing my name in the wet concrete,
Touching both sides of your brain when I flex on beats,
And when we sound the drums, I'll see cowards hung,
When my hour comes I'd rather catch a beat down than run,
It's just that honest, I don't rap for these monsters,
Id rather face the music than turn my back on you.

OBESE LOWLIFES RESTRUNG (Feat. MYSTRO & BRAINTAX)

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis/K. Amarfio/J. Christie)
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Written and performed by K. Dafarmo, D. Smith, J. Christie and M. Lambert
Scratches by DJ Debris

Verse 1 – Mystro
Well I'm the one to bring the funk although my armpit's not stinking,
And I'm known to hold flows like the glass you drop drinking,
Never crawled man I started of limping,
Plus I rock a fella like I know the art of parking lot pimping yeah,
You people know of Mys, the one whose flow's crazy,
And is so gravy that it should come with a bowl of rice,
The NBS with the Hilltop Hoods,
Make B-Boys and Girls break quicker than real soft wood, let's go.

Verse 2 – Pressure
I never hit on a girl, at least with no hand,
Girls are like serving time but time waits on no man,
Got nothing on women so I spread love on the rhythm,
And get you out your seat quicker than corrupt politicians,
And I'm on the brink, man it makes me stop and think,
I don't drink till I drop cos I think I might drop my drink,
Think you're more, than us? We believe in war,
Trust me your nothing I aint seen before.

Chorus
From the bottom to the top of the deck,
To everybody I met, I've got a lot of respect,
But still I'm such a lowlife, yeah but so Obese with it,
I'm such a lowlife, yeah but so Obese with it.

Verse 3 – Braintax
With one pen too high to overextend,
In dreamland with freedom starting again,
With foresight thrive on the magic of life,
And five fingers plus a mic make sick shit, Braintax,
Fuck Tony Blair like I hate George Bush,
Another seven day week, you ready for the push?
Through the eight million stories that you can't write down,
Start again from the top, come on people bounce.

Verse 4 – Suffa
Man all these pollies in power are cowards so it's only fair,
That I hate John Howard like I hate Tony Blair,
And I croon like Tony Bennet in a rental tux,
Experimental cuts, with the Brando Flux and Mys Diggy,
No one's as fly as these kings,
I'll leave you beside yourself like Siamese twins,
We're so deep, so nice, so full of promise,
But obese, lowlifes man what woman would want us?
We're like some hooded up bombers out storming the yard,
We're going large like a junkie out pawning his car,
This is the core of the art, and it's all from the heart,
This music put your life together when it's falling apart.

Chorus
From the bottom to the top of the deck,
To everybody I met, I've got a lot of respect,
But still I'm such a lowlife, yeah but so Obese with it,
I'm such a lowlife, yeah but so Obese with it.

RECAPTURING THE VIBE RESTRUNG

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis)
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Written and performed by D. Smith and M. Lambert
Scratches by DJ Debris

Verse 1 – Pressure
It's the next chapter, where's all my head at?
You slept at the fact that we crept back to,
Set factors straight, the only dead rappers,
Are penned at the papes of no cred actors,
Those haters, no you don't faze us,
Cos you don't know shit so, you're on a need to know basis,
And those gracious folk with no status,
I made this flow for you, no your own name is,
Not a part of the bigger picture, listen it's the,
Middle finger that you put up in a fixture,
Life's a bitch and it'll hit you,
If I could pimp women like I do words I'd be living literature,
Hip Hop's a circus act this is absurd but fact,
One critic or cynic for every that learned to rap,
One lyric with gimmick for every with purpose that,
Furthered rap culture round the earth and back,
But some diss but when I'm up in your face,
You're a man of your word; you got nothing to say,
I got respect for the scene and love for the place,
Where I bled for my dreams and struggled for change,
We're still striving on, were still alive and strong,
Right or wrong I'd still kill for where I belong,
Insightful on the real deal when I write a song,
Question, you still feel the vibe I'm on?

Verse 2 – Suffa
I'll have the whole crowd like, oh shit, that's right I said it,
I'll be like, da, da, da, da, roll like the credits,
Two of the best to ever edit poetics,
It be the three headed beast from Obese come to set it,
Off, Hilltop in the place, sir just calm down,
Spit fire on stage and burn your bar down,
You hear it bumping in clubs you turn your car round,
You hear it pumping in pubs you buy the bar a round,
Pump it up in your car; turn your car into a club,
Smash through the wall of a pub and burn the bar down,
Just burn the bar down, like a disco inferno,
MCs aren't the only thing we burn though,
I'm the arsonist like Rakim is,
So ask your kids who the number one artist is,
Obese got the mad fucking roster while,
Your crew couldn't even house a foster child,
You're flamboyant like Oscar Wilde, I got to smile,
When you panic on stage like you lost a child,
Where's Benny? Benny's across the road watching Hilltop,
Cos they got the flow the hills have still got,
The skills, the beats to get nice on,
Don't need drugs, I get a buzz when the mics on,
So hit the floods Suffa like it with the lights on,
Hilltop, we're what's left when the vibe's gone.

ROLL ON UP

(M. Lambert/B. Francis/D. Smith)
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Written and performed by M. Lambert and D. Smith
Scratches by DJ Debris

Verse 1 - Suffa
Shows and flows till the rhyme was felt,
Coast to coast and cut through the Bible belt,
A tribal yell till the vibe was felt,
Surviving hell and back man, on every track, man saliva spelt,
Hilltop, we hustled independent,
Obese, the muscle and the emblem,
We paved roads with our soul and suffering,
For the stage coach carrying hip hop to roll on up in,
There's something that's making them nervous
The undergrounds taking these verses and breaking the surface,
With a brand new cockiness, a brand new confidence,
Treat em like they owe me man; pay me my compliments,
No obstacles the fans and the fam make it possible,
And Obese got a roster full of rocket fuel,
So keep an eye out for those out ripping it up,
Putting it down, cos the fans are now picking it up.

Chorus
Roll on up, hip hop's no longer living,
In rocks shadow, the kids are now spitting not singing,
Roll on up, and come and see emcees free
Their sounds, to the sound of an MPC it goes,
Roll on up, hip hop's no longer living,
In rocks shadow, kids are now spinning not singing,
Roll on up, and see the DJs getting the love,
From every head that step in the club, we hit the freeway and roll…

Verse 2 - Pressure
With this everyday hustle,
Aint nothing over night man, it takes struggle to make muscle,
And half of these kids are under the poverty line,
The other half confuse skills with gonna be signed,
But man this world doesn't owe you a debt,
So don't you expect a hand out or me to show you respect,
I got no regrets, why? Cos really its proof,
That makes a good lie better than the hideous truth,
I don't preach or scream aint trying to teach the scene,
The only guidelines are those you need to read between,
And the eighties is gone its a crazy biz,
Nowadays hip hops whatever the fuck I say it is,
The reason I'm down, and kept my feet on the ground,
So I could breathe life back into the street with my sound,
So from the rappers to the vinyl stores, risking their spinal cord,
To define a cause we about to reach our final straw.

Chorus
Roll on up, hip hop's no longer living,
In rocks shadow, the kids are now spitting not singing,
Roll on up, and come and see emcees free
Their sounds, to the sound of an MPC it goes,
Roll on up, hip hop's no longer living,
In rocks shadow, kids are now spinning not singing,
Roll on up, and see the DJs getting the love,
From every head that step in the club, we hit the freeway and roll…

Verse 3 – Suffa & Pressure
We roll on ripping it,
Cos some of these execs are just soulless lepers,
They'll buy you lunch cos they stole your breakfast,
Now who I'm going to let control these records?
And who's going to hold these weapons,
Roll independent, and owe nothing to no one.
Got love for Elefant Tracks, Love for the Shogun,
Love for Hydrofunk, love for the homespun,
Cause we a dying breed and this loathsome,
Industries about the mint, not the plant that dresses lunches,
Nah man it's the plant that presses hundreds,
We run with each and every ryhmer since,
Cause we never been so large that I couldn't read the finer print.

Chorus
Roll on up, hip hop's no longer living,
In rocks shadow, the kids are now spitting not singing,
Roll on up, and come and see emcees free
Their sounds, to the sound of an MPC it goes,
Roll on up, hip hop's no longer living,
In rocks shadow, kids are now spinning not singing,
Roll on up, and see the DJs getting the love,
From every head that step in the club, we hit the freeway and roll…

STOPPING ALL STATIONS RESTRUNG

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis)
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Written and performed by D. Smith & M. Lambert
Scratches by DJ Debris

Verse 1– Pressure
Early morn, train station, aching from the arthritis,
This war veteran knows what a hard time is,
He needs his pension, dementia and half blind is,
The reason he rides the train with no car license,
So he boards with an expired ticket has a swipe,
Gets a fine cos the change he got don't add up right,
We're taking about a man who never lived a lavish life,
Caught up in the age of computer chips and satellites,
A lovely lady boards looking tired and half awake,
He smiles, she's reminds him of his wife that past away,
She says something as she walks right past his way,
His old hearing aid don't last quite half the day,
Some young gentlemen alive with their laughter,
Approach the old timer and put a knife to his heart to,
Explain that money or bloods the price of their barter,
To a man whose friends probably died for their fathers.

Chorus
Whatever it takes can justify,
Whatever ends we make, whatever the price,
To the end of a life, it's just an observation,
So take a ride we're stopping all stations.

Verse 2 – Pressure
It's been a long night the suns lifting on a cold,
Morning but she's drugged and drunk tripping on her stroll,
On the way home, she's done with stripping on a pole,
But she can't pay for her son living on the dole,
Jumps a train puts on her gloves she's wearing black,
Being watched by some old mug she's glaring back,
She's on edge and got the bug from sharing smack,
So she says, "Hey, what the fuck you staring at?"
He smiles, an unsteady hand rubs on his dome,
She takes a seat, a messy band of ruffs board alone,
To the digger with a machete at his lungs and he's prone,
He can barely stand but ready to stand up for his own,
She tries to help him she doesn't choose to flee the car,
And catches a blow with enough bruise to leave a scar,
She starts fainting, the rooms moving and seeing stars,
Aint it amazing how courageous human beings are?

Chorus
Whatever it takes can justify,
Whatever ends we make, whatever the price,
To the end of a life, it's just an observation,
So take a ride we're stopping all stations.

Verse 3 – Suffa
He knows nothing but hard work and scraping by,
Looking for a purse or wallet so he can make a buy,
He hasn't been on the nod since this morning,
And he needs to touch the face of god, his skin it' just crawling,
These peeps are sheep, time to fleece the market,
Jumps a train with some friends, sees an easy target,
An old man hard hit by age, fainthearted,
The kid pulls a knife, like let's get started,
A girl steps he's like eat the carpet,
Laughs with his friend like she's retarded,
The old man stepped and swept the assailant,
Off his feet, his head connected with the railing,
Your weak the old man said as the kid lay recovering,
Blubbering, get to your feet I'll you another thing
A real man never lays his hands on a woman,
A real man would know that, no surprise that you wouldn't,
I didn't fight in two wars just so forty years later,
You'd have the freedom to rob me on the train this behaviour,
Doesn't fit with what I gave this country so cut me,
Won't live another day in a world that's so ugly.

THE HARD ROAD RESTRUNG

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis)
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Written and performed by M. Lambert and D. Smith
Scratches by DJ Debris
Contains a sample of 'Out in the Woods', written and performed by Leon Russel.
Used courtesy of Universal Music.

Verse 1 – Suffa
Growing up I needed a guide like, a blind veteran's dog,
Cos I was going nowhere like a child's letters to god,
Though life's road was hard I was never so lost,
That I looked for an answer in a medicine box,
I never did pop pills, or cop deals, just rocked hills
Kids with skills, still got harassed by the cops till,
They'd have me in the back of a paddy, down to lock up,
Smack me, pat me down for a baggy, mums would rock up,
And bail me out, a failure out once again,
Next weekend, bail me out, drunk again,
And I never will forgive myself,
For putting you through all that hell,
I went from high school dropout to factory labourer,
Slave to the clock until four, went from sleeping on the floor,
To being out on tour, now no stopping me,
I'll finish with a bang like Kurt Cobains biography.

Chorus
Going down a hard road, down the hard road,
Don't know where I've been, and don't know where to go its like,
Going down a hard road, down the hard road,
Don't know where I've been.

Verse 2 – Pressure
I spent my youth like life was cheap,
The only change that I wanted was enough to buy a drink,
Was on a path to nowhere, the harder the road,
The more broken baggage we carry the larger the load,
This school drop-out got knocked out, chased by the cops out,
Got clout, dumped by my girlfriend and locked out,
Been broke and beaten, even chocked at being,
A dope mc but never lost hope in dreaming,
We used to thrash boosted cars till the engine would fail,
If I never had bailed maybe I'd be dead or in jail,
And man I got no one else to blame,
I thank my family and music for keeping me sane,
But that's the breaks right? Started working late nights,
Never seeing daylight, getting paid like a slave might,
And I've done too many years to miss this for my missus,
To have to tell my son he nearly never existed.

Chorus
Going down a hard road, down the hard road,
Don't know where I've been, and don't know where to go its like,
Going down a hard road, down the hard road,
Don't know where I've been, DJ Debris c'mon and break it down like,

Verse 3 – Suffa
And I speak what I feel in the booth in the spirit of truth,
Cos all these kids that I meet man they mirror my youth,
And I could have gone the wrong way, the easy option,
But I chose to go the long way, the streets are watching,
So keep a look out, look up, B-Ballers keep your hook up,
Tear a page from my book out, and pull out,
Your finger put your foot out and keep a lookout,
For what we put out, the brand new flavour for your cookout.

Chorus
Going down a hard road, down the hard road,
Don't know where I've been, and don't know where to go its like,
Going down a hard road, down the hard road,
Don't know where I've been…

WHAT A GREAT NIGHT RESTRUNG

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis)
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Written and performed by M. Lambert & D. Smith
Scratches by DJ Debris

Verse 1 – Suffa
This is for the hopeless, the homeless, the brokest, the dopest,
The smokers, the jokers on opiates and coke it's,
Your choice, I won't judge you tonight,
Cos I'm paraletic, I ain't looking to lose a fight,
So put your hands up if you're not to drunk to stand up,
If you bombing up the toilets put your man up,
And put your can up spray it in the air mate,
Check out my man, fuck its all going pear shaped,
They call me Suff when I'm drunk they call me fuck off,
Head under the bar trying to drink the run off,
I'm a one of a kind; I'll rhyme till I'm cut off,
Or just to fucking blind to get one off,
Don't call me son of a bitch; I'm the son of an angel,
When the sun of the morning hits it's so painful,
These all nighters are killing me,
But it's alright are you feeling me?

Chorus
And it's all love, and it's alright,
Till we're all drunk, then it's all fights,
Then it's all over, go home, go sleep,
Wake up, get sober, what a great night,
And it's all love, and it's alright,
Till we're all drunk, then it's all fights,
Then it's all over, go home, go sleep,
Wake up, get sober, what a great night.

Verse 2 - Pressure
This is for the reckless, the restless, deafest and freshest,
The jesters and senseless on heroin or meth it's,
Your call, we aint judging you now,
Cause on or off tap, we aint fucking around so,
Feel a girl up if you're not to drunk to get it up,
And if she's throwing up make sure her hair is up,
But beware that you're not riding Caboose pal,
Check out these chicks, fuck they all getting loose now,
They call me Presh when I'm drunk they call me scumbag
Hand up in your till, snatch a bill then run back,
I'll take them one at a time once they find out I done that,
These bars aint never gonna let me come back,
Don't call me son of a bitch I'm the son of muso,
And the sum of my problems is substance abuse so,
These long nights are the death of me,
But its alright it's my legacy.

Chorus
And it's all love, and it's alright,
Till we're all drunk, then it's all fights,
Then it's all over, go home, go sleep,
Wake up, get sober, what a great night,
And it's all love, and it's alright,
Till we're all drunk, then it's all fights,
Then it's all over, go home, go sleep,
Wake up, get sober, what a great night,
Gin and tonic, you rock the house,
Tequila shots, you rock the house,
Chivas Regal, you rock the house,
Yager bombs, you rock the house,
And it's all love, and it's alright,
Till we're all drunk, then it's all fights,
Then it's all over, go home, go sleep,
Wake up, get sober, what a great night,
And it's all love, and it's alright,
Till we're all drunk, then it's all fights,
Then it's all over, go home, go sleep,
Wake up, get sober, what a great night.

AN AUDIENCE WITH THE DEVIL

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis/D. Rankine)
Produced by Trial for Peepshow Entertainment
Written and performed by M. Lambert

Verse 1 – Suffa
I was granted an audience in the devils maze,
I sat by his throne and we talked for days,
He told me about his ancient battles with arch-angels,
He told me loneliness was the torture most painful,
He said if I filled my lifetime with sin,
I could earn myself a seat that was right by him,
And if I didn't, that was fine by him,
Cos everyday a million souls just fly right in,
He could barely keep up with the souls of all the people,
It's not easy being sole controller of all evil,
He said "So many people want to burn with me,
I swear free wills a bitch and so's eternity,
So what you learn from me might save you from suffering,
You don't want to see the bowels of the earth rupturing,
Take a breath, suck it in, I got more to tell,
And time's of no consequence when you're in hell."

Verse 2 – Suffa
I asked the devil to explain
Why I always think that people have it in for me?
And why I always feel like the sky's closing in on me?
This is what he said,
"The sky's not falling it's just angels committing suicide,
Cos they're so saddened by humans using genocide,
As a political tool, considering all you humans have,
The way you act belittles you all,
Now hell is so full that we started expanding,
Damnation is a business and the markets demanding."
I asked him if a city street buckled and cracked,
And hell rose to earth then would heaven collapse?
He smiled; I knew that smile was his response,
I thought to myself, he's almost got what he wants,
He said "I'll tell you my one desire,
That's for earth itself to become my empire,
Every politicians like a gun for hire.
Even the church of nativity's come under fire,
So you can tell I'm getting close to my goal,
Of creating a world where I can torture every soul."

Chorus
Sitting with the devil, this is what I learned,
Apart from the ways a human soul can be burned,
It's that though we learn from our mistakes we're condemned,
To make those same mistakes again and again,
Sitting with the devil, this is what I learned,
Apart from the ways a human soul can be burned,
It's that though we learn from our mistakes we're condemned,
To make those same mistakes again and again,
And time keeps, time keeps slipping away,
Like I keep, I keep slipping away,
Like time keeps, time keeps slipping away,
Like I keep, I keep slipping away,
Like time keeps, time keeps slipping away,
Like I keep, I keep slipping away,
Like time keeps, time keeps slipping away,
Like I keep, I keep slipping away, I keep slipping away.

BREATHE

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis)
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Written and performed by D. Smith
Scratches by DJ Debris
Bass Guitar by Chris Lambert
Trumpet by Phil Ingram

Verse One – Pressure
In life, we struggle as individuals,
A fine line between a cliché saying and something original,
As if in death we left something residual,
Behind to mark our time up in this pitiful,
Existence and I'm a man of many issues,
If I ever dissed you, no disrespect I never wished to,
Hold a grudge the stress makes me act like this,
The day I get it off my chest I won't write tracks like this,
But I'll be bitter on them when all is done and is forgotten,
Cos it's easier to sit and complain than fix the problem,
But the power of speech empowers our beliefs,
With sour defeats, man nothing is out of reach,
Got plenty to answer for, all do is answered back,
Done a thousand things I regret, apologize for none of that,
So you get back what you put in no regrets,
And keep on until they know your sweat, you only get.

Chorus
One chance, so I live for the moment,
I'm just one man what I wouldn't give for this moment,
We got one world; still we take it in stride,
In this one life we stand still waiting to die,
One chance, so I live for the moment,
I'm just one man what I wouldn't give for this moment,
We got one world; still we take it in stride,
In this one life we stand still waiting to die.

Verse 2 – Pressure
Now if life is what you make it it's time to build,
Man I'm for real aint no telling what this life will yield,
I'm a career man, cos I career off any path,
That would lead me to a start of financial gains I'm scarred,
We learn from our mistakes, that makes me a scholar on,
Being a walking talking fuck up and a better man for being wrong,
I'm humble and loyal, my friendships are honored,
A mans success aint measured by the depths of his pocket,
I give good advice but never follow it, what's left for me?
I'm a hypocrite and if I weren't I'd be a success story,
View this wide world through a narrow gaze, these harrowed days,
Seen to many men end in a shallow grave,
I guess it's better to have loved and to lost, than never stumbled across,
The gift of knowing you what ever the fucking cost,
To put it in perspective and under my vision,
This world is superficial; I'm done with others opinions.

Chorus
One chance, so I live for the moment,
I'm just one man what I wouldn't give for this moment,
We got one world; still we take it in stride,
In this one life we stand still waiting to die,
One chance, so I live for the moment,
I'm just one man what I wouldn't give for this moment,
We got one world; still we take it in stride,
In this one life we stand still waiting to die.

CIRCUIT BREAKER

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis/D. Rankine)
Produced by Trials for Peepshow Entertainment
Written and performed by M. Lambert and D. Smith
Scratches by DJ Debris

Verse 1 – Suffa
I got to jump back and kiss myself,
The Hoods have comeback to rip this girl,
Live on the drum track you dissed yourself,
So drunk that you nearly pissed yourself,
And if you come wak you risk your health,
I'm the one that made LL ring the bells,
Sharp as a thumb tack, it's the infidel,
In the back with some girl named Isabelle,
And I'm a, you're gonna what? I'm a wreck this, the freshest,
Thermoelectrics, technics and a set list,
So check this, Hilltop locks jaws like tetanus,
Fuck breakfast at Tiffanies I want Tiffany for breakfast,
The funk leader, told you last LP,
With a style that make you smile like a Chelsea,
Smile, what the fucks that man? It's when you place,
Razor blades on the cheeks then a kick to the face,
In the place and we raising the roof,
Like Al Qaeda had placed a case in the booth,
A taste of the truth and some flawless shit,
Like John Howard knows the taste of George's dick,
Man I'm born to spit these kids wish they stuck me,
I warn you kid you're bitch made like puppies,
Switch blade to Nazis' cut them through their khakis,
I lose it every time I put it down like car keys.

Verse 2 – Pressure
It only takes one man to bust,
But takes these two to raise them standards up,
Take three, Debris man the cuts,
This is for, those that will stand with us,
From sundown into the dawn didn't I warn?
The lyrical storm hits you in a physical form,
This isn't your norm, didn't reform, isn't your average,
Wishing to score listeners for pitiful crap it's,
Off Richter, sicker than cough fits you,
Listen to pop hits? This isn't your soft shit you,
All in the mix so start warning the kids,
They're adopted and not that they were born with a gift,
I'm so fatal that reverends won't stay till confession,
You all can't hold your own like post natal depression,
I've got a mouth of profanity, a spouse and a family,
At my house man no wonder that I'm doubting my sanity,
I'm an honest drunk, what a mentality,
Avoiding the truth is staying sober; I'm an addict of reality,
I live for tomorrow so cheating death today,
Means at all costs avoid repeating yesterday,
I'm a loose cannon, enough juice to soothe famine,
Break your back with this rap then ask you who's slamming?
Some rapper claiming a throne, unaware they,
Aint kings only royalty they know is airplay.

CITY OF LIGHT

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis)
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Written and performed by M. Lambert and D. Smith
Scratches by DJ Debris
Bass guitar by Chris Lambert
Electric guitar by Nick Lambert

Verse 1 – Suffa
I'm from the city of light, with a sky of vanilla,
Known as the city of churches home of the serial killer,
And in the summer it feels like a hundred degrees,
Where I'm from you might see Suffa MC,
Walking the traps trying to escape the map,
Ninety one was my shit I'm trying to take it back,
To when writers ran the line and transits ran the gambit,
My memories the paint, let the track be my canvas,
Thirteen sitting in a park, sipping wine casks,
Watching whole cars as they went flying past,
I couldn't paint so I rhymed to the writers,
They'd laugh, light up a smoke, and get blinded by their lighters,
'Nasty Arts' ran my line evading cop cars,
And we looked up to them like they were rock stars,
Paint stained hands and fame like Manson,
That's Charles not Marilyn, a city held to ransom,
Cans and markers, Country Road parkers,
Hands of an artist left the landscape enchanted,
Until the government pigs had all the paint washed,
From our city walls, end of the renaissance,
And so the walls where the colours once played,
Were replaced by the buff, now a sullen blunt grey,
White washed, shitty, all grey, all black,
Waiting for the kids of this city to take their walls back.

Verse 2 - Pressure
I'm from the city of light, with a sky of vanilla,
Known as the city of churches home of the serial killer,
And in the winter, the city sleeps dead in the freeze,
Where I'm from you might see Pressure MC,
Walking the traps trying to escape the map,
Ninety three was my shit I'm trying to take it back,
Got kicked out of school but I would have left in time,
With nothing but an ego and rap to get me by,
I swept floors, packed orders, when poor racked from Porters,
Liquor store just to score me a four track recorder,
Fifteen, sneaking in the back door to the gig,
Thought I could rip, bro trust me I fought for this shit,
Cos the city's darker than a starless night,
And treats a starter like a fresh piece of meat, greet the carving knife,
Till the day came when I'd scar consortiums,
I'd lay waiting, train stations and parks my audience,
Before we had our beats made, before we had a DJ,
We'd rock to a beat box, before that shit was clichéd,
You see mate, I refused to lay low and gave those,
Better years of my life to pave roads,
Live as hell, we did it by ourselves,
The only secret to this shit is one that time will tell,
So breathe in cos the city invites, jealously, pity and blight,
You're in the city of light.

CLOWN PRINCE

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis)
Produced by Debris for X-Bred Productions
Written and performed by M. Lambert and D. Smith
Scratches by DJ Debris
Contains a sample of 'Laying Pipe', performed by Pornosonic.
Used courtesy of Virgin Monk Muzic (BMI) and Valley Entertainment Incorporated.

Chorus
It's your round if you're hanging at the back of the bar,
So just bounce like you're banging in the back of your car,
We turn it out, Hilltop; we've been down since,
Back in the days, I'm the clown prince.
It's your round, if you're hanging at the back of the bar,
So just bounce like you're banging in the back of your car,
We turn it out, Hilltop; we've been down since,
Back in the days when I was a teenager.

Verse 1 – Suffa
First up on the dulcet tones of the Gravy Bone Project,
Suffa MC came to take you home,
I drip lyrics like spit, spit lyrics like drips,
Into arms I'll lick your spirit with my miracle whip,
Whip, cos what I'm hearing's all shit on the lyrical tip,
Nah I aint feeling you kid, we gave you,
Something to jock, but it wasn't no thing,
Like Bobby gave Whitney a rock but it wasn't no ring,
And I'm a keep at em, crossing my fingers that eve,
Says keep Adam, I'm going down on Louise,
And I'm a wreak havoc, little man with a big pen,
I got dirty habits like a nun in a pig pen,
Like Drinking, smoking, cursing, sucking
Titties, representing the city that I grew up in,
We laid the path so you got a way in,
It's Hilltop; we're three stars like a Holiday Inn.

Chorus
It's your round if you're hanging at the back of the bar,
So just bounce like you're banging in the back of your car,
We turn it out, Hilltop; we've been down since,
Back in the days, I'm the clown prince.
It's your round if you're hanging at the back of the bar,
So just bounce like you're banging in the back of your car,
We turn it out, Hilltop; we've been down since,
Back in the days when I was a teenager.

Verse 2 – Pressure
Next up, when I get loose with no fail,
Appealing like the naked truth and the truth is for sale,
So when I leave yo, you're fucking with my pride I don't see though,
Typical MC, my nuts don't match the size of my ego,
I seize an opportunity cos they don't linger,
The glass aint half empty its half full that why I'm a table drinker,
Think you're on Pressures level? Only thing tight bro,
That you might show is dressed in several of your wife's clothes,
An arrogant fucker damaging suckers masterfully,
If I married your mother you still wouldn't be half of me,
You should run from me, fuck battling aint nothing sweet,
Cos I won't beat you to the punch I'll punch you to the beat,
Don't get offended by the rubbish that we pump in the street,
My foots always in my mouth I just cant stomach defeat,
I'm a master these until it's hard to breathe,
Its Hilltop, we're the first to come last to leave.

Chorus
It's your round if you're hanging at the back of the bar,
So just bounce like you're banging in the back of your car,
We turn it out, Hilltop; we've been down since,
Back in the days, I'm the clown prince.
It's your round if you're hanging at the back of the bar,
So just bounce like you're banging in the back of your car,
We turn it out, Hilltop; we've been down since,
Back in the days when I was a teenager.

Verse 3 – Suffa and Pressure
I'm smooth like Marlon Brando at thirty,
At my peak like Marlon Brando at fifty,
And I'm fat like Marlon Brando at seventy,
Fuck it; no MC could ever better me,
And half the time half my crew could drink the bar,
And half these cats aint half of what they think they are,
We independent, I'd sign on the line,
The day me giving you the finger is a sign of the times,
Their rhymes are designed to try diss us, but why diss us?
I don't rewind to try to find disses,
Man, I just recline and mind my business,
And I think in lines in rhymes, the rhyme stitches,
Up the minds of the lines of dimes and fine…
I pen letters that kill,
Then stab your neck with a feather until you've bled in my quill,
This veteran's ill, thinking you can better my skill,
You need medicine chill a Pressure vendettas for real.

Chorus
It's your round if you're hanging at the back of the bar,
So just bounce like you're banging in the back of your car,
We turn it out, Hilltop; we've been down since,
Back in the days, I'm the clown prince.
It's your round if you're hanging at the back of the bar,
So just bounce like you're banging in the back of your car,
We turn it out, Hilltop; we've been down since,
Back in the days when I was a teenager.

CONVERSATIONS FROM A SPEAKEASY (Feat. OMNI)

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis/J. McDonald)
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Written and performed by D. Smith, J. McDonald and M. Lambert
Scratches by DJ Debris

Verse 1– Pressure
Let's get introductions aside,
Pressure, Omni and Suffa tonight busting the mic like,
Lately I've been hearing nothing but hype,
Pen's mightier than your sword? Then you'd be fucked in a fight,
From the point of the exact conception I've had perfection,
And you aint close to Omni even though you may lack direction,
I've got a good heart, but bad intentions,
Pressure don't need a map for reference I'm a man of legends,
I'll last forever like bad impressions,
Like the first night you cursed in adolescence,
The way I slam a sentence can panic veterans,
Some things are better left unsaid like anything that I have to mention,
My loud mouths my downfall it's doubtful,
I'll bite off more than I can chew cos I already got a mouthful,
Act like I astound yall, well I'm a scoundrel,
With enemies but cliché is a friend of me, I'm out yall.

Chorus
Pull up a chair, and kick your feet on the table,
Let down you hair, lean back in your seat if you're able,
We've got the Jazz, for your speakeasy conversations,
It's the universal language of relaxation.

Verse 2 – Omni
The heart of the giant, the eye of the lion,
The smell of victory is what makes me keep trying,
My will to survive is like I'm stranded on an island,
I keep rhyming; keep climbing till somebody find me,
My city's been behind me since the mid nineties,
Right around the time when it was cool to be grimy,
My DJ used to make the earth spin in reverse,
Put the needle to the dirt, spread the word like you heard it first,
Now it's all twisted, somebody told the truth but they missed it,
I put it on my CD but they skipped it,
But that's what happens when you do something different,
Some people can just stay content with the simple shit,
I live my life fast like it's my last,
I don't trip off of cash or dwell in the past,
I'm bigger than that; I'm bigger than rap,
One of the sickest MCs on the map for bringing that back.

Chorus
Pull up a chair, and kick your feet on the table,
Let down you hair, lean back in your seat if you're able,
We've got the Jazz, for your speakeasy conversations,
It's the universal language of relaxation.

Verse 3 – Suffa
I heard there ain't no party like an open bar,
We lay out rhymes like drinks for a broken heart,
Heartbreak like liquor in an open scar,
So bizarre, roll thick like smokers tar,
Tell me who can rock parties with no guitar,
And if I aint getting paid then I'm leaving in the promoters car,
Tell me who you know this far,
Gone, on till the moments…
Gone, on till the break of this governments back,
And it's on till my mates are all loving the tracks,
No thugs in his raps, no muggings and macks,
And no guns, just trying to get us up on the map,
Bust, Suffa on wax, trust it's on,
I'm trying to do for rhyme what digital cameras did for porn,
Born in a small town, die with a big mouth,
Hoods tore it all down, shouts to the kids south.

Chorus
Pull up a chair, and kick your feet on the table,
Let down you hair, lean back in your seat if you're able,
We've got the Jazz, for your speakeasy conversations,
It's the universal language of relaxation,
Pull up a chair, and kick your feet on the table,
Let down you hair, lean back in your seat if you're able,
We've got the Jazz, for your speakeasy conversations,
It's the universal language of relaxation,
Pull up a chair, and kick your feet on the table,
Let down you hair, lean back in your seat if you're able,
We've got the Jazz, for your speakeasy conversations,
It's the universal language of relaxation,
Pull up a chair, and kick your feet on the table,
Let down you hair, lean back in your seat if you're able,
We've got the Jazz, for your speakeasy conversations,
It's the universal language of relaxation.

MONSTERS BALL

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis/A. Simmonds)
Produced by Simplex
Written and performed by M. Lambert and D. Smith

Verse 1 – Suffa
You sound like a bitch man,
Nymphos in your clip and disco riffs man,
I'll tell you this, OK, it don't fit man,
It's like OJ, little glove, big hand,
Step to this I'll take your miss, make her twist and,
Moan, like 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 martyr we,
Like opiates in the vein, 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.

Verse 2 – Pressure
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,
Its primal instinct we rap we don't think,
Its do or die, no turning back like suicide,
Till you're doing time with these cut throats in a suit and tie,
So don't feed the animals, or act a fool,
Your just one man, a young lamb amongst a pack of wolves,
So while you're fighting over scraps and loose change and moot claims,
Pressures higher up in the food chain,
And small time predators rove in packs,
That why big time executives throw them scraps,
So much static that this is such a hazardous business,
And having to witness that half these rappers are bitches,
Got me laughing hysterically, I've 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, signing my name in the wet concrete,
Touching both sides of your brain when I flex on beats,
And when we sound the drums, I'll see cowards hung,
When my hour comes I'd rather catch a beat down than run,
It's just that honest, I don't rap for these monsters,
Id rather face the music than turn my back on you.

OBESE LOWLIFES (Feat. MYSTRO & BRAINTAX)

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis/K. Amarfio/J. Christie)
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Written and performed by K. Dafarmo, D. Smith, J. Christie and M. Lambert
Scratches by DJ Debris

Verse 1 – Mystro
Well I'm the one to bring the funk although my armpit's not stinking,
And I'm known to hold flows like the glass you drop drinking,
Never crawled man I started of limping,
Plus I rock a fella like I know the art of parking lot pimping yeah,
You people know of Mys, the one whose flow's crazy,
And is so gravy that it should come with a bowl of rice,
The NBS with the Hilltop Hoods,
Make B-Boys and Girls break quicker than real soft wood, let's go.

Verse 2 – Pressure
I never hit on a girl, at least with no hand,
Girls are like serving time but time waits on no man,
Got nothing on women so I spread love on the rhythm,
And get you out your seat quicker than corrupt politicians,
And I'm on the brink, man it makes me stop and think,
I don't drink till I drop cos I think I might drop my drink,
Think you're more, than us? We believe in war,
Trust me your nothing I aint seen before.

Verse 3 – Braintax
With one pen too high to overextend,
In dreamland with freedom starting again,
With foresight thrive on the magic of life,
And five fingers plus a mic make sick shit, Braintax,
Fuck Tony Blair like I hate George Bush,
Another seven day week, you ready for the push?
Through the eight million stories that you can't write down,
Start again from the top, come on people bounce.

Verse 4 – Suffa
Man all these pollies in power are cowards so it's only fair,
That I hate John Howard like I hate Tony Blair,
And I croon like Tony Bennet in a rental tux,
Experimental cuts, with the Brando Flux and Mys Diggy,
No one's as fly as these kings,
I'll leave you beside yourself like Siamese twins,
We're so deep, so nice, so full of promise,
But obese, lowlifes man what woman would want us?
We're like some hooded up bombers out storming the yard,
We're going large like a junkie out pawning his car,
This is the core of the art, and it's all from the heart,
This music put your life together when it's falling apart.

RECAPTURING THE VIBE

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis)
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Written and performed by D. Smith and M. Lambert
Scratches by DJ Debris

Verse 1 – Pressure
It's the next chapter, where's all my head at?
You slept at the fact that we crept back to,
Set factors straight, the only dead rappers,
Are penned at the papes of no cred actors,
Those haters, no you don't faze us,
Cos you don't know shit so, you're on a need to know basis,
And those gracious folk with no status,
I made this flow for you, no your own name is,
Not a part of the bigger picture, listen it's the,
Middle finger that you put up in a fixture,
Life's a bitch and it'll hit you,
If I could pimp women like I do words I'd be living literature,
Hip Hop's a circus act this is absurd but fact,
One critic or cynic for every that learned to rap,
One lyric with gimmick for every with purpose that,
Furthered rap culture round the earth and back,
But some diss but when I'm up in your face,
You're a man of your word; you got nothing to say,
I got respect for the scene and love for the place,
Where I bled for my dreams and struggled for change,
We're still striving on, were still alive and strong,
Right or wrong I'd still kill for where I belong,
Insightful on the real deal when I write a song,
Question, you still feel the vibe I'm on?

Verse 2 – Suffa
I'll have the whole crowd like, oh shit, that's right I said it,
I'll be like, da, da, da, da, roll like the credits,
Two of the best to ever edit poetics,
It be the three headed beast from Obese come to set it,
Off, Hilltop in the place, sir just calm down,
Spit fire on stage and burn your bar down,
You hear it bumping in clubs you turn your car round,
You hear it pumping in pubs you buy the bar a round,
Pump it up in your car; turn your car into a club,
Smash through the wall of a pub and burn the bar down,
Just burn the bar down, like a disco inferno,
MCs aren't the only thing we burn though,
I'm the arsonist like Rakim is,
So ask your kids who the number one artist is,
Obese got the mad fucking roster while,
Your crew couldn't even house a foster child,
You're flamboyant like Oscar Wilde, I got to smile,
When you panic on stage like you lost a child,
Where's Benny? Benny's across the road watching Hilltop,
Cos they got the flow the hills have still got,
The skills, the beats to get nice on,
Don't need drugs, I get a buzz when the mics on,
So hit the floods Suffa like it with the lights on,
Hilltop, we're what's left when the vibe's gone.

STOPPING ALL STATIONS

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis)
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Written and performed by D. Smith
Scratches by DJ Debris

Verse 1– Pressure
Early morn, train station, aching from the arthritis,
This war veteran knows what a hard time is,
He needs his pension, dementia and half blind is,
The reason he rides the train with no car license,
So he boards with an expired ticket has a swipe,
Gets a fine cos the change he got don't add up right,
We're taking about a man who never lived a lavish life,
Caught up in the age of computer chips and satellites,
A lovely lady boards looking tired and half awake,
He smiles, she's reminds him of his wife that past away,
She says something as she walks right past his way,
His old hearing aid don't last quite half the day,
Some young gentlemen alive with their laughter,
Approach the old timer and put a knife to his heart to,
Explain that money or bloods the price of their barter,
To a man whose friends probably died for their fathers.

Chorus
Whatever it takes can justify,
Whatever ends we make, whatever the price,
To the end of a life, it's just an observation,
So take a ride we're stopping all stations.

Verse 2 – Pressure
It's been a long night the suns lifting on a cold,
Morning but she's drugged and drunk tripping on her stroll,
On the way home, she's done with stripping on a pole,
But she can't pay for her son living on the dole,
Jumps a train puts on her gloves she's wearing black,
Being watched by some old mug she's glaring back,
She's on edge and got the bug from sharing smack,
So she says, "Hey, what the fuck you staring at?"
He smiles, an unsteady hand rubs on his dome,
She takes a seat, a messy band of ruffs board alone,
To the digger with a machete at his lungs and he's prone,
He can barely stand but ready to stand up for his own,
She tries to help him she doesn't choose to flee the car,
And catches a blow with enough bruise to leave a scar,
She starts fainting, the rooms moving and seeing stars,
Aint it amazing how courageous human beings are?

Chorus
Whatever it takes can justify,
Whatever ends we make, whatever the price,
To the end of a life, it's just an observation,
So take a ride we're stopping all stations.

Verse 3 – Pressure
He knows nothing but toil, strife and hard yakka,
Pissed at the world for playing wife in a slammer,
This man was never given a life on a damn platter,
So he jumps a train with knife and bandanna,
Boys at his back, sleazy, hardened and far,
From giving a fuck, an easy target his mark,
He sees an old man and says "See we'll part with your hard,
Earned cash or rest in peace we can start with your heart."
Some girl steps not afraid she's gonna cop it sweet,
And gets decked before she made it even on her feet,
The old man leaped to her aid and to his horror he'd,
Thrusted his chest into the blade of his robber s piece,
He grabbed the wallet, dropped the knife as he fled the car,
Concerned about the loss of life he'd never went this far,
What's done is done, he'd got the prize and he'd spent his half,
Of two dollars in change and a pension card.

THE BLUE BLOODED (Feat. MORTAR, FUNKOARS, HAU, DRAPHT, VENTS, MILKBAR ALLSTARS & ROBBY BALBOA)

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis/R. Mortimer/D. Rankine/A. Baker/L. Latukefu/P. Ridge/J. Lardner/D. Young/T. Staff/R. Warren/M. Honson)
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Written and performed by M. Lambert, R. Mortimer, D. Rankine, A. Baker, L. Latukefu, P. Ridge, J. Lardner, D. Young, T. Staff, R. Warren, M. Honson and D. Smith

Introduction – Trials
We have a whole lot of superstars on this stage here tonight,
And I want you to know one thing, this is…

Verse 1 – Suffa
Hilltop, that's where the blood runs,
Thick, it's where kings bury there loved ones,
Sick, kids guard their crop with a slug gun,
From rips, move like Schapelle on a drug run,
So quick, there's kids in the park waiting,
These are my poison diaries like Mark Latham,
So start hating, though you know in your heart,
We've been owning this art since our flow in the park.

Verse 2 – Mortar
You can't serve me like Serena and Venus,
Comparatively I leave you looking like the machinist,
Cats know they've been hit, when I spike the mic level,
And draw blood like intravenous,
Without a pencil I'm hell bent,
Leave dents in the condenser, you can tell when,
Mortar's been in the booth to rhyme,
I don't scratch vinyl, I scratch up the mic with my canines.

Verse 3 – Trials and Sesta
Mr Trials, young ladies jump in the sack,
I never kiss and tell instead I fuck it and brag,
I'm an angry drunk when I'm grabbing a rum,
And skull shots till we fall from grace like Eric Clapton's son,
South of the country, west of the city,
Chip into that kitty if we're going to be drinking until the skank pretty,
Will he attack? When he snap, got the track like,
Bring it back, hear him rap? Isn't that Funkoars?
You can find us staggered in a cipher,
Turning human traffic to a five car pile up,
We leave them all for dead,
I used to think big till it killed L, Pun, Smalls and Kev,
Like bad move, got you looking like you're eavesdropping the devil,
And T set the theme to send them to hell,
Bet on it, you're never better, I tell them again,
Seddy bury every adversary he put against.

Verse 4 – Hau
Fresh off the boat with an impressive approach,
To writing rhymes like pressing your throat,
The unquestionable dopeness, and oh yes,
It's the one and only, in the house like the gun is on me
Got you gronks saying blimey he's clever,
He's brighter than that sun in the shiniest of weather,
Girls you want diamonds forever?
Well throw your hymens the sky if you feel the vibe.

Verse 5 – Drapht
None of gravities properties are on top of me,
Can't hold me back from taking a stab like Chopper Read,
Can't hold me back, I'm back around again like stalkers,
My mic holds a force like a sword or a tomahawk,
To Conan, walking with no man now,
Cos you freeze when you spit like a snow mans mouth,
Arouse with every word, first you've got to know this,
We don't belong together like Rove and showbiz.

Chorus
And we what? – Run with crew,
Whose what? – Blood is blue,
Through life's – Fucking zoo,
And we might – Come for you,
And we what? – Run with crew,
Whose what? – Blood is blue,
Through life's – Fucking zoo,
And we might – Come for you.

Verse 6 – Vents
The saga begin, RPM drama again,
My lung burn, dangerous carcinogen,
Starving like Stalin in parliament in Prague again,
In camouflage targeting,
In Rock Creek Park, carve terror in the bark,
Blueprint, build pyramids in the dark,
The blood run deep, renegade creep,
Hilltop connect bro, centigrade heat.

Verse 7 – Muphin and Pegz
Muph, some give me shit for my name,
But I don't give a shit about you shit for brains,
Been a long while so I know the game,
It's more about music than your clothing range,
We're here to overtake, setting the standard,
Obese crew, we're the devilish family,
Stand on stage accepting a Grammy,
For the most incredible rapping since edible panties,
Unforgettable pansies in a flickering fit,
Knickers in a twist in a spiral of shit,
Undeniable gift with decipherable spits,
My fireball pit will burn you Muppets,
True rugged, blue blooded dignitary,
Crews love it when we do something visionary,
Move up never lose touch, living ready,
This is the hard road cargo hitting heavy.

Verse 8 – Robby Balboa
Robby Balboa bless the text,
Deliver you ticket to death,
Rivers of rhythm ripping the flesh,
Triple your bets on the primitive pest,
Selling sick smut from the cinema steps,
It begins with a breath, a kid killing his pets,
Just sitting in debt when I'm feeling a wreck,
Life's a bitch and so we're wringing her neck,
Fuck a metro in a pink shirt cos we're kicking the set.

Verse 9 – Honz
The Funkoars and the Hilltop, yes, we still rocking it,
And I aint going near your bill unless we fucking topping it,
I drink till I'm all over the shop like barcodes,
And as far as rap goes, I've mastered my flows,
Certified and we back again to wreak havoc,
With these pads and pens so understand my friend,
We about to take over just like Hove spit it,
To the most gifted get them glasses up and toast with us.

Verse 10 – Pressure
Pressure MC, born with a mechanical mind,
The talent of rhyme, instinctual like animal kind,
Now I flow with the best, from east coast to the west,
We live in the flesh like my raps sewn in your chest,
You can't fathom the dopest flow, amateurs don't you know,
What ever happened to a good old fashioned broken nose?
Don't become a casualty of my faculty,
Damn I got spine but you'll never see that back of me.

Chorus
And we what? – Run with crew,
Whose what? – Blood is blue,
Through life's – Fucking zoo,
And we might – Come for you,
And we what? – Run with crew,
Whose what? – Blood is blue,
Through life's – Fucking zoo,
And we might – Come for you.

THE HARD ROAD

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis)
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Written and performed by M. Lambert and D. Smith
Scratches by DJ Debris
Contains a sample of 'Out in the Woods', written and performed by Leon Russel.
Used courtesy of Universal Music.

Verse 1 – Suffa
Growing up I needed a guide like, a blind veteran's dog,
Cos I was going nowhere like a child's letters to god,
Though life's road was hard I was never so lost,
That I looked for an answer in a medicine box,
I never did pop pills, or cop deals, just rocked hills
Kids with skills, still got harassed by the cops till,
They'd have me in the back of a paddy, down to lock up,
Smack me, pat me down for a baggy, mums would rock up,
And bail me out, a failure out once again,
Next weekend, bail me out, drunk again,
And I never will forgive myself,
For putting you through all that hell,
I went from high school dropout to factory labourer,
Slave to the clock until four, went from sleeping on the floor,
To being out on tour, now no stopping me,
I'll finish with a bang like Kurt Cobains biography.

Chorus
Going down a hard road, down the hard road,
Don't know where I've been, and don't know where to go its like,
Going down a hard road, down the hard road,
Don't know where I've been.

Verse 2 – Pressure
I spent my youth like life was cheap,
The only change that I wanted was enough to buy a drink,
Was on a path to nowhere, the harder the road,
The more broken baggage we carry the larger the load,
This school drop-out got knocked out, chased by the cops out,
Got clout, dumped by my girlfriend and locked out,
Been broke and beaten, even chocked at being,
A dope mc but never lost hope in dreaming,
We used to thrash boosted cars till the engine would fail,
If I never had bailed maybe I'd be dead or in jail,
And man I got no one else to blame,
I thank my family and music for keeping me sane,
But that's the breaks right? Started working late nights,
Never seeing daylight, getting paid like a slave might,
And I've done too many years to miss this for my missus,
To have to tell my son he nearly never existed.

Chorus
Going down a hard road, down the hard road,
Don't know where I've been, and don't know where to go its like,
Going down a hard road, down the hard road,
Don't know where I've been, DJ Debris c'mon and break it down like,

Verse 3 – Suffa
And I speak what I feel in the booth in the spirit of truth,
Cos all these kids that I meet man they mirror my youth,
And I could have gone the wrong way, the easy option,
But I chose to go the long way, the streets are watching,
So keep a look out, look up, B-Ballers keep your hook up,
Tear a page from my book out, and pull out,
Your finger put your foot out and keep a lookout,
For what we put out, the brand new flavour for your cookout.

Chorus
Going down a hard road, down the hard road,
Don't know where I've been, and don't know where to go its like,
Going down a hard road, down the hard road,
Don't know where I've been…

WHAT A GREAT NIGHT

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis)
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Written and performed by M. Lambert
Scratches by DJ Debris

Verse 1 – Suffa
This is for the hopeless, the homeless, the brokest, the dopest,
The smokers, the jokers on opiates and coke it's,
Your choice, I won't judge you tonight,
Cos I'm paraletic, I ain't looking to lose a fight,
So put your hands up if you're not to drunk to stand up,
If you bombing up the toilets put your man up,
And put your can up spray it in the air mate,
Check out my man, fuck its all going pear shaped,
They call me Suff when I'm drunk they call me fuck off,
Head under the bar trying to drink the run off,
I'm a one of a kind; I'll rhyme till I'm cut off,
Or just to fucking blind to get one off,
Don't call me son of a bitch; I'm the son of an angel,
When the sun of the morning hits it's so painful,
These all nighters are killing me,
But it's alright are you feeling me?

Chorus
And it's all love, and it's alright,
Till we're all drunk, then it's all fights,
Then it's all over, go home, go sleep,
Wake up, get sober, what a great night,
And it's all love, and it's alright,
Till we're all drunk, then it's all fights,
Then it's all over, go home, go sleep,
Wake up, get sober, what a great night.

Verse 2 – Suffa
This is for the gamblers, the ramblers, the grandmas and grandpas,
The fans of the samplers, my godson in pampers,
Champ let's all amp this out like Peavey,
Like De La said it's so easy,
It's so easy, to pack this,
Chain smoking in the back like I had three cigarettes and one match it's,
The one who sucks tequila from a cactus,
You couldn't hack this with axes, to all the detractors,
Go listen to Axis if you want proof,
That Obese ain't actors, we produce,
The rawest performance from verse to the chorus,
Hung like a walrus, run like a tortoise,
Obese, enormous, flawless on the cordless,
I own this mic like my name was Shure it's,
For the poorest or richest, slowest or quickest,
Flow with a sickness, bro you know what this is?

Chorus
And it's all love, and it's alright,
Till we're all drunk, then it's all fights,
Then it's all over, go home, go sleep,
Wake up, get sober, what a great night,
And it's all love, and it's alright,
Till we're all drunk, then it's all fights,
Then it's all over, go home, go sleep,
Wake up, get sober, what a great night,
Gin and tonic, you rock the house,
Tequila shots, you rock the house,
Chivas Regal, you rock the house,
Yager bombs, you rock the house,
And it's all love, and it's alright,
Till we're all drunk, then it's all fights,
Then it's all over, go home, go sleep,
Wake up, get sober, what a great night,
And it's all love, and it's alright,
Till we're all drunk, then it's all fights,
Then it's all over, go home, go sleep,
Wake up, get sober, what a great night.

DUMB ENOUGH

Written by D. Smith/M. Lambert
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
and Debris for X-Bred Production Studios
Scratches by DJ Debris
Copyright. Hilltop Hoods 2003.

Verse One – Pressure
This is recreation, set your station, and get your place in
A comfy seat, pump this beat, Pressure will set the occasion,
For your entertainment I work hard on my flows,
This scene is full of falling MCs I wear hardhats to shows,
And every hip hop head's a critic, cos some hit the stage hard,
But couldn't get these arseholes open at a gay bar,
It's a comedy festival; they're so unintelligible,
Can't work out if they got peas for brains, or they're just vegetables,
It's sounds pathetic as me being anorexic,
I do damage like a paralytic, paramedic with no anaesthetic,
Girls shake my hand, guys want to hug me it's a worry,
If I forgot your name I'm sorry, you're probably pretty ugly,
I'm scared of getting old, so when it comes D-Day,
I'm a thank you all for dissing me, then say something clichéd,
And when I'm dead and buried I want you in 'Life Be In It' shirts,
At my cemetery singing…

Chorus
Hilltop Hoods and we're coming up,
So step on up if you're dumb enough
Hilltop Hoods and we're coming up,
So step on up if you're dumb enough.

Verse Two – Suffa
People chant the chorus when they hear it, Yo it's on,
You rise like a tsunami, when you feel it; it's the bomb,
I'll make origami of your lyrics,
Geez that's good Suffa, what is it? It's a swan,
I got the shit to bomb MCs back to the Stone Age,
On stage, I'll get you out your seat quicker than road rage,
I take them all from beat jackers to backpackers,
With tracks fat as fuck, I ran amok on these wak rappers,
But then it happened. What happened? What I thought could,
I screwed all these MCs, yeah? Then it got awkward,
It got weird didn't it…
You don't wanna see me anymore,
Oi Suffa you can't sing, yeah I can't even hum a tune,
But I make this crowd bounce like bedsprings on a honeymoon,
Come and do your best but it's still not good enough,
Suff is rough I'm with the…

Chorus
Hilltop hoods and we're coming up,
So step on up if you are dumb enough,
Hilltop hoods and we're coming up,
So step on up if you are dumb enough.

Verse Three - Suffa & Pressure
From the hilltops in the Andes, to the Rockies in Canada,
We infecting mics like Tommy did Pamela,
They gassed in the head, that trash you said was pure jealousy,
Like 'Left Foot, Right Foot's an invitation to step to me,
You're loosing you footing, you need some Velcro on them Shell toes,
In fights I'm throwing rhymes, in rhyme fights I'm throwing elbows,
I move a crowd like stolen goods, so try and get a hold when,
You couldn't move your shit with a diarrhoea tic colon,
I already told them, the hills are impassable, impossible,
The truth hurts; this rhyme will put you in hospital,
Break it down like a molecule, we burning like fossil fuel,
I'm something of a phenomenon - I'm phenomenal,
These rappers they don't wanna fuck with Suff,
You better turn off your mic, unless you're dumb enough,
Cos we're running up on stage from night until the sun is up,
So run amok you're with the…

Chorus
Hilltop hoods and we're coming up,
So step on up if you are dumb enough,
Hilltop hoods and we're coming up,
So step on up if you are dumb enough,
Hilltop hoods and we're coming up,
So step on up if you are dumb enough,
Hilltop hoods and we're coming up,
So step on up if you are dumb enough.

ILLUSIONARY LINES

Written by D. Smith
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Scratches by DJ Debris
Copyright. Hilltop Hoods 2003.

Verse One – Pressure
I once had time on my hands, but now handling time,
Is coping with this life cycle and the mandatory grind,
My sanity's fine, just falling short of stamina I'm,
Searching for some food for thought to feed this famine of mind,
And when I'm stagnant I rhyme, it helps the night turn to day,
I churn my way through this nine to five and urban decay,
Believe me it's bleak, and though the city's breaths in its sleep,
It's just a paddock, ain't no where a shepherds leading these sheep,
Now most prefer it covered up lie than the truth naked,
The truth is ugly like cellulite; please don't publicly parade it,
I hate it but to escape it would be luck on fluke,
I feel like I'm a dope beat but I'm stuck on loop,
But that's my life cycle; freedom means everything to me,
And face value's got us believing everything we see,
So if our eyes tell us lies the truth is we're blind,
So keep on walking straight and narrow down illusionary lines.

Verse Two – Pressure
I once had respect for this game, but now this game of respect,
Is sold to the highest bidder with some fame and a cheque,
Now any layman can get respect without breaking his neck,
Paying dues, time these crews started paying some debt,
It ain't lights and cameras, personalities on set,
Distorting realities in their context,
With no originality concepts,
Who gives a fuck about a salary; this ain't a popularity contest,
Cos hip hop ain't faking for ends,
Hip-hop ain't fading with trends,
It ain't rich kids playing with pens,
It ain't the clothes on your back, or the label on them,
It's where you're at, so I say it again,
It's just my life cycle; music means everything to me,
It's just a fashion show, nah; don't believe everything you see,
Cos if our eyes tell us lies the truth is we're blind,
So keep on walking straight and narrow down illusionary lines.

Verse Three – Pressure
That's just my life cycle, nothing matters but setting me free,
Because my freedom and hip hop be meaning everything to me,
Now face values and fashions empower everything we be,
Believing everything we hear, and everything we see,
So if our eyes tell us lies, then we usually find,
Our visions cluttered by this scutter so the truth is we're blind,
It's just poison food for thought for these dillusionary minds,
So stop walking straight and narrow down illusionary lines.

LAYING BLAME

Written by M. Lambert/D. Smith
Produced by Debris for X-Bred Production Studios
Organ by Evan
Scratches by DJ Debris
Copyright. Hilltop Hoods 2003.

Verse One – Suffa
I gave birth to half these styles, you should pay me rhyme support,
Like Billy Jean suing Michael Jackson for child support,
Rhyme is thought, what is it? Lethal, Damn you'll get hurt,
Cos I XL like the tag on my shirt,
I'll have these rappers easing back, rhyme with a swagger,
Feed your girl aphrodisiacs and hide your viagra,
If pain was diabetes, rhyme would be my insulin,
I'm taking out the insolent in an instant when
They bring the rhyme; I'll battle if you wanna tussle,
A single line can turn that fatty matter into muscle,
You stagnate, while my rhymes circulate like rumours,
Your living proof that god has a sense of humour,
I'm butter made from the cream that came from the crop,
I'll move the mountain to Mohammed scream my name from the top,
And proclaim what I got, boy, so give me headroom,
These clubs are full of more toys than spoilt kids bedrooms,
When I'm on stage I might lose my breath,
Cos I got so much heart that there's no room in my chest,
Left for lungs, yes the bests yet
To come, my rhymes like a hand around your neck,
Constricting your breathing like snakebites and beestings,
I'm all up in these arseholes faces like G-Strings,
I searched the world for opposition but I fear the
Only competition I found was in a mirror.

Verse Two – Pressure
When Pressure steps to the batters plate you salivate, known to captivate,
I have to break new barriers like when a chaste nun masturbates,
If one more critic asks me what I do, I'll slap them mate,
And tell them I'm a rapper as I strap her up in gaffer tape,
Loudmouths make me wanna flip,
MCs only dream they got a grip, and wake up with their hand on their dick,
Honest, if they ride the nuts I tell the get off me,
Cos I'm unstable like a cradle bridge, so don't cross me,
I'm highly explosive; you're a child playing with matches,
I break rappers you give hairline fractures,
These actors keep it real? You're really wak it's fact,
You spit one-liners while I spit the finest chapters,
Perhaps it's time to retire the mic,
Like the Bulls should have done son, cos no-one wants to be like,
That anymore, cos nowadays you're taken on a fantasy tour,
Of coke, guns and gold when they're actually poor,
Factually flawed, yet entertaining,
I guess it how far we're willing to go to satisfy a craving,
Make them swallow their tongues like epileptics,
Then I'll respect it, I come clean as if my lube was antiseptic,
So blow me, you still couldn't rhyme fresh,
I'm on a higher level of divineness, so call me your highness,
There's only three things that are certain in life,
Death, taxes and Hilltop Hood working the mic.

MIC FELON

Written by D. Smith
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Scratches by DJ Debris
Copyright. Hilltop Hoods. 2003.

Verse One – Pressure
I got committed to the pen now my shit's so locked down,
MCs think I'm doing time for this hip-hop sound,
Debris the mastermind, Suffa's my partner in crime,
I be the microphone felon, tell them your master design,
It all started when I was young fiending for mics,
Dreaming of heights that I would be reaching despite,
No one would put me on, or even play me at that,
So earned my dues ganking mics labelled radio shack,
At open mic one night far from sober or with it,
This guy pulls me off and says 'You're rhyming over the limit,
And heading that way you won't last a day or a night,
You need to be down for the long haul kid we call em lifers,
Beside you need to stick with me cos rhyme pays,
And I know this heist where we can jack some sine waves,
They're mainly small timers, freestylers,
Street urchins and beat merchants, none of them real rhymers,
They're raping this culture and make me sick to my stomach,
These fools need to be arrested for sleeping in public',
I dug it, got serious and mastered my rhyme,
The rocked to the spot with my new partner in crime,
Trespassed on stage, stole the mic to further insult,
Committed arsony, defamation and verbal assault,
They tried to blame the engineer oblivious to our ploy,
So we crept backstage as they buried the sound boy,
I stole the DJs crates and his diamond needles,
Now they got me on the run so it's time to leave ya'll,
We tried to cross the border, got cause as a noun carrier,
Pulled over and evicted for breaking the sound barrier,
This cop threw me to the ground, cos hip hop is violent,
Said 'You got freedom of speech, just choose to remain silent',
Then he checked in the trunk and he found the hot sound,
I got committed to the pen now my shit's locked down.

Chorus
I'm a rhyme felon; peeps do what I tell them,
People can't handle the product that I'm selling,
I left my dwelling now I'm on the run,
Microphone felony number one,
I'm a rhyme felon; peeps do what I tell them,
People can't handle the product that I'm selling,
I left my dwelling now I'm on the run,
Microphone felony number one,
I'm a rhyme felon; peeps do what I tell them,
People can't handle the product that I'm selling,
I left my dwelling now I'm on the run,
Microphone felony number one.

SIMMY AND THE GRAVYSPITTER

Written by M. Lambert
Beatbox by Simplex
Copyright. Hilltop Hoods 2003.

Verse One – Suffa
You won't get far little punk cos I bust pure rhymes,
I tear up bars like a drunk on a bus tour I'm,
The hideous, insidious, super fly Suffa,
Ignorance is bliss and you're a happy motherfucker,
Sucker rock a set; I'm like Bobba Fett with intellect,
I'm everywhere you go like porno on the Internet,
You don't wanna step, trust me, you been warned,
You don't wanna play leapfrog with a unicorn,
Leave you torn; you couldn't battle me with that lame rhyme,
You couldn't come hard with two women at the same time,
You walk in the club dipped in jewels and versace,
Only gay guys wear that much gold, ask Liberace,
MCs act arrogant, I wonder why,<br>If your skills matched your ego you'd be eating humble pie,
Your rhymes are more average than your girlfriend's looks,
And with a face like that, I hope that girl can cook, it's like that.

TESTIMONIAL YEAR

Written by M. Lambert/D. Smith
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Scratches by DJ Debris
Copyright. Hilltop Hoods. 2003.

Verse One – Suffa
Let me introduce myself, raise them beers,
Suffa MC, been doing this for more than ten years,
Ever since I was a youngster, I brought the funk for
The love, and for the party people to get drunk to,
Since back in the day we've been the major crew,
When I step on the stage it's like De Ja Vu,
Years of performing, years of practice,
Respect from my peers, my girls tears on the mattress,
Every time that we went on tour,
And she was left behind feeling insecure,
But she needn't worry; I wasn't chasing a girl to rock right,
I was chasing the warm glow of a spotlight,
City after city, state to state,
We were just three mates rocking beats and breaks,
So if you made it to a Hoods show to check the style,
You get much respect, you made it all worthwhile.

Verse Two – Pressure
Let me introduce myself, raise them beers,
Pressure MC, been doing this for more than ten years,
It's been a long road I'm glad I stayed on track,
A dream of making raps, and getting played on wax,
It seems that faking jacks want to cause my demise,
Along the way wouldn't give me play but couldn't stop the course of my rise,
Now of course the sky's the limit, we fly get with it,
You ain't underground, that's because you dig it,
It took infinite skills and hard work to get this far jerk,
Look me in the face, now I'm the one who wears a smart smirk,
It wasn't all negative, took the good with the bad,
Us falling will never happen, like catching the Hoods in drag,
In orderly fashion I'm thanking those who supported me,
Wouldn't be where I'm standing if they hadn't have fought for me,
From a nothing rep, now we live busting sets,
So if you own a Hoods album you get nuff respect.

Verse Three – Suffa
Let me introduce myself, raise them beers,
Suffa MC, been doing this for more than ten years,
We've been through a lot to perfect this art,
When Next left the group it near broke my heart,
But then Debris stepped up as the DJ,
A super team spearheaded by PJ,
Chasing dreams like Fats chasing punani,
It's all about the culture, never been about the money,
But we had to watch people trying to take advantage
Of us, trying to damn near rob us,
We got slowed down by dodgy contract offers,
But it would take a nation of millions to stop us,
We got our propers, paid our dues in triplicate,
Ripping it, till other crews were insignificant,
I've stayed true, never made myself a hypocrite,
Trust me, I'm wise I got the certificate.

Verse Four – Pressure
Let me introduce myself, raise them beers,
Pressure MC, been doing this for more than ten years,
Yeah we made it far, through beats pumping and flows,
My bro Rated R props for being the drunkest at shows,
And support from my mates who fought for the stakes,
Of Oz hip-hop, props to record stores, I bought from their crates,
You see talking it takes less than walking the stakes,
So put your money where your mouth is and stop flaunting as fakes,
For those who stuck by me over time I put yours over mine,
Don't have to speak your names you know my mind,
In this simple game of respect it's given as it's taken,
Been given props, now respected tracks is what I'm making,
Shouts to everyone I met on tour,
It's our hip hop ladies and gentlemen let's keep it pure,
So here's another LP from the Hoods to crank to,
Hope you dig the rest of this album people I got to thank you.

THE CALLING

Written by D. Smith/M. Lambert
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Scratches by DJ Debris
Copyright. Hilltop Hoods 2003.

Verse One – Pressure
For many years I was seeking asylum, in the bleakest environments,
Rhyme possessed me, while many started speaking retirement,
So as I rose they all fell in the fashion of yelling and trashing,
For what it's worth there was no quelling the passion,
Their love was dead, I was writing papes but getting fuck all said,
So I polished my shit until my knuckles bled,
Treading thin ice and all I caught were chills,
Sacrifices were appetisers, mics instead of meals,
This hand was mine, so I played it until I made it expand my mind,
And burned my name into the sands of time,
Then rhyme gave me strength to less avail,
Got used to these backstabbers, so now I sleep on a bed of nails,
I never fail, but turning tides are moving too slow,
I swam the depths of every ocean just to prove I could flow,
So from the cradle to the grave, turntable to Holy Father,
I swear I didn't slit my wrists I got the hip-hop stigmata.

Chorus
You got to pray to hip-hop almighty,
We bless the microphone nightly,
Open up the lyric from inside me,
It's our calling that's why we say,
You got to pray to hip-hop almighty,
We bless the microphone nightly,
Open up the lyric from inside me,
It's our calling that's why we say…

Verse Two – Suffa
This be calling, we could never be fake,
Thanks to hip-hop I got a bed in every state,
And without it I'd roam the city with no purpose,
Without the underground I'm a clown without circus,
I flip verses, you feeling me, abilities,
My currency with which I buy credibility,
Facilities were built, just to be torn down,
Till the wheels fall off, and my pencils all worn down,
Till death comes to collect his debt, I'll wreck the set,
When heads check in retrospect, I'll get respect
Cos I did what I was called to do,
It's hip hop, I did it all for you
We true to this, got clout on turntables getting played,
We doing this without a label not getting payed
So from the cradle to the grave, microphone to retirement home
I'll be on stage; I'll never leave the rhyme alone.

Chorus
You got to pray to hip-hop almighty,
We bless the microphone nightly,
Open up the lyric from inside me,
It's our calling that's why we say,
You got to pray to hip-hop almighty,
We bless the microphone nightly,
Open up the lyric from inside me,
It's our calling that's why we say…

Verse Three – Suffa & Pressure
Either we're all out, or we're all in,
And if we fall out, then we're all falling,
It's the calling; it's what I hear in my sleep,
It's that shiver up my spine when I'm feeling the beat,
It's that fear of defeat, the need to better myself,
It's the culture; it's not about spreading the wealth,
It's forgetting the time when you're perfecting a rhyme,
It's every drop of sweat that I shed getting mine.

Chorus
You got to pray to hip-hop almighty,
We bless the microphone nightly,
Open up the lyric from inside me,
It's our calling that's why we say,
You got to pray to hip-hop almighty,
We bless the microphone nightly,
Open up the lyric from inside me,
It's our calling that's why we say…

THE NOSEBLEED SECTION

Written by M. Lambert
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Scratches by DJ Debris
Copyright. Hilltop Hoods 2003.

Verse One - Suffa
This is for the heads that's loving the mix,
My people in the front, all covered in spit,
Batters in the box, Suffa to pitch,
Hilltop Hoods, all up in this bitch,
And we the funk leaders, punks you can't beat us,
We bump and pump meters, we drunk you chumps need us,
So jump with us, down in the front if it's,
Your flavour, come get drunk with us,
This life turned out nothing like
I had planned, why not?
By now I should've had some land,
Some money in my hand, round about fifty grand,
But I got nothing, I write rhymes on the bus,
I keep suffering; fuck the lines of the dust,
You keep sniffing, that shit is for the punk hoes,
This shit is for my bros, my people in the front row.

Verse Two - Suffa
I got hip-hop taste buds,
I wanna hear that bass when I make love,
I wanna hear some lyrics when I wake up,
Write rhymes to get me through a break up, bitch!
Rough like whisky straight, no chaser,
Went through fifty breaks, no flavour,
Till I found this one, and made the,
Bass hook with the drum, my saviour,
This is the comeback, tongue that's sharp like a thumbtack,
It's so tight James is saying give my funk back,
One track, eight track, a-dat, residual
Noise, man fuck that, we clean with the digital,
Toys I'm the Apache, you're failing to match me,
Throw your hands in the air like you're hailing a taxi,
And move to the funk flow, you stepping? Are you drunk bro?
This is for my peeps and the freaks in the front row.

Verse Three - Suffa
People don't complain if Suffa's in here,
And you're in the front row, all covered in beer,
And club owners don't say 'the place is wrecked it's your fault',
If the roof is on fire it's an electrical fault,
Man I bet you all bolt, when I bring it live
Like Friday night footy, in my hoody can hide I,
Gets live on the breaks son, like pace one,
Lads, if you're heading to the bar grab your mates one,
Ladies come chill, come rock with me honey,
I got like half a mill in monopoly money,
There's no stopping me honey, so you can take my hand,
We can lay on the beach and count grains of sand,
Or take a plane to Japan, and drink saki with mafia,
Fly to Libya for some Bacardi with Gadafi a
Dinner date, followed by a funk show,
We'll rip off our tops and jump around in the front row.

THE SENTINEL

Written by M. Lambert/D. Smith
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Scratches by DJ Debris
Copyright. Hilltop Hoods. 2003

Suffa
We found this club on a side street, but I was kind of iffy,
We could hear some fly beats, but from outside it looked shifty,
I said this to pressure just before I finished my sentence,
This bouncer came out and dragged us both through the entrance,
This guy was huge and I was stumbling with my speech,
I finally mumbled that we just stumbled in from the street,
He said to us "So finding us was accidental?
Well I'm not surprised, we don't advertise at the Sentinel",
He said "What's your name?" he said "Pressure", I said "Suffa",
He said "Join the rest of the suckers",
So we went right in, we sat right down,
Pressure said "I guess I'll get us both our first round",
He had to go downstairs cos the bar was underground,
He came back and said "Man these the cheapest drinks in town",
I agreed, yes indeed, we could be here all night,
They're only charging a buck fifty for imperial pints,
And I'm feeling alright, this place is kind of cool man,
I'm hoping tonight, nobody acts the fool and,
Ruins this vibe that I've got going,
Not knowing where I am, but this jam's growing man this spots blowing,
The ladies were hot I sat down and listened,
To their four thousand watt, in-house sound system,
The DJ was laying tracks, keeping people on the floor and then,
He played a crazy break, and the chorus went…

Pressure
These dim lights hold, silhouetted figures fit in tight moulds,
This beer's ice cold, yeah we're going to be here till the nights old,
I might stroll, see what I can plunder, but I wonder,
Do I feel a blunder or is that the drink putting me under,
A strange feeling, this place got my brain reeling,
Looked up and seen a picture of the barkeep upon the main ceiling,
Feels like a broken dream, I'm walking through a smoke machine and,
In the corner seen a dope fiend, blowing a smoke screen,
Sat down, looked at the picture on the bottle label,
It was the same man and the stripper that sat atop my table,
And as he licked her thighs I saw that glint in her eyes
The wristwatch upon her waistlet it had him hypnotized,
She kissed him goodbye, threw me a smile and a grin,
My reply cut thin by my hand wiping my chin,
Walked to the bar as the tender looked right through me I said
"Excuse me", then he replied in tones as if he talked about me not to me,
He said: "Welcome to the Sentinel, I hope your stay here's perpetual,
We serve drinks and broken dreams but no edibles",
I bought a round, man I think this is watered down,
Its tasting sought of fowl, this place is giving me the creeps and plus the doors are now,
Closing to the public so let's make our move,
Then I was struck by the strangest sense of déjà vu,
Man I swore I was bent "Suffa man I've heard this all before it went",
Ba ba ba ba ba, and then the chorus went…

Pressure & Suffa
Man this place's got me reeling I took a seat to get my focus,
When a group of B-Boys gathered by the stage took my notice,
At about one o'clock, the club manager approached us,
And said "I heard you jokers were MCs, who's the dopest?
Cos we run an open mic battle every night,
And to enter you've got to be, incredibly tight",
I said "Get me the mic I might flip", then the lights switched,
My vision was blurring and burning words inside my eyelids,
Rhyme progression begun, something possessing my tongue,
Blessing the deaf and dumb till I was falling short of breath in my lung,
"When will they let us stop?" I checked the time and it was,
Six in the morning, and we were still rhyming,
Battled MC after MC, battled MCs for days,
But they wouldn't let us go, when we tried to leave the stage,
The manager said "You boys can never leave this tournament,
And you can never leave the Sentinel", and the chorus went…

TOMORROW WILL DO

Written by D. Smith/M. Lambert
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Scratches by DJ Debris
Copyright. Hilltop Hoods 2003.

Verse One – Pressure
Be careful what you wish for; be cautious what you seek,
Women are like opportunities; grasp them when they're in reach,
All that glitters is gold, and sold for green locally,
Life's a blind struggle that's why fate keeps tripping over me,
With fines, debts and warrants trust me when I say they serve you,
What you don't know can't hurt you; so not knowing you's a virtue,
It's a fast food world; I fear that I'm a die gluttoning,
But life is like John Howard, too short to waste time worrying,
I moved from my parentals, used to lose it in the mental,
Now I'm using my potential, for bruising instrumentals,
I'm a bad natured human, bound to stagnate in ruin,
Till these man made delusions catch a bad case of bruising,
We're all drunk philosophers so give it time now,
There's a fine line between a smile and a frown, Yeah? It's called an eyebrow,
If measurement of ones worth was one word of testament,
I'm done keeping it real I keep it relevant.

Chorus
Life is a road, full of turn-offs, short sprints and long runs,
We'll deal with it as it comes,
If I lose my way I'll follow you,
Cos today's like yesterday I guess tomorrow will do,
Life is a road, full of turn-offs, short sprints and long runs,
We'll deal with it as it comes,
If I lose my way I'll follow you,
Cos today's like yesterday I guess tomorrow will do.

Verse Two – Suffa
I've been an out and out loudmouth since my youth,
I'm generous with words but selfish with the truth,
I'd never say some things on my mind anyway,
Cos ideas are like cars, they get stolen everyday,
And when I do speak women call me a creep,
Ladies chivalry's not dead it's on the couch where you made it sleep,
I get deep without the meaningful,
Mimed a rhyme to a blind man, he said 'Boy now I've seen it all',
The worlds an ugly place filled with beautiful women,
And people, who love music but lack suitable rhythm,
What a computer will give them an instrument won't,
It's called hip hop, guess what we're the industry joke,
But hip hop followers, follow us till your sorrow is gone,
And be strong cos tomorrow it's on,
We ain't no beat nick, weak trip, kids on the sneak tip,
We spit deep shit all of life' secrets.

Chorus
Life is a road, full of turn-offs, short sprints and long runs,
We'll deal with it as it comes,
If I lose my way I'll follow you,
Cos today's like yesterday I guess tomorrow will do,
Life is a road, full of turn-offs, short sprints and long runs,
We'll deal with it as it comes,
If I lose my way I'll follow you,
Cos today's like yesterday I guess tomorrow will do.

Chorus
Life is a road, full of turn-offs, short sprints and long runs,
We'll deal with it as it comes,
If I lose my way I'll follow you,
Cos today's like yesterday I guess tomorrow will do,
Life is a road, full of turn-offs, short sprints and long runs,
We'll deal with it as it comes,
If I lose my way I'll follow you,
Cos today's like yesterday I guess tomorrow will do.

WALK ON

Written by M. Lambert/D. Smith
Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions
Scratches by DJ Next
Copyright. Hilltop Hoods 2003.

Verse One – Suffa
I speak from the heart, but only when I drink,
And I only ever sleep when I'm too tired to think,
Restlessness, the reaction that you will find,
From stress I guess and having a compassionate mind,
I worry bout the machine of progress, ain't no stopping it,
The forest we destroy and the world we build on top of it,
Mercenaries get paid salaries to slaughter,
Girls obsessed with body image find calories in water,
Nurses comfort seven-year-old casualties of mortar,
A peasant's daughter caught up in a war for a border,
And at home we treat our refugees like criminals,
Detention centres just a catch phrase for a minimal
Security prison, we drive gold trimmed cars,
Down the road an Afghani kid grows up behind bars,
And we wonder why they hate the west,
When we treat them like they're second-class citizens at best,
We're all pawns in a game, the USAs miniatures,
Aussie foreign policy with George Bush's signature,
Peeps die for a watch and blue chip stock,
Did they do Big Pop or was it two bit cops,
I wanna sue kid rock for making rednecks think they're hip hop,
Wanna swallow people's pain and spit it from the hilltop,
Wanna affect change in the subjects that we talk on,
Connect strangers, work together and walk on.

Verse Two – Pressure
Polluting airways, mankind strays with no reforming,
So slap on that sunscreen and enjoy the global warming,
Cos ignoring world issues is what we all do best,
Just like Aussie politicians shoe shining for the U.S.
To save losing face, no thoughts to the fumes that trace,
Our sky lines and clogs our seas we swimming in consumer waste,
The fumes of hate rise globally but will it cease?
The day we try and find a little peace within the Middle East,
We shadow their borders yelling deplete their arms,
Its just war for black gold so they can grease their palms,
We all need a scapegoat, a villain to cop blame,
We're just wolves in sheep's clothing killing in gods name,
And that's world wide, like global over population,
We mine the world dry of natural resources to feed our nations,
Appetite for waste, I see it everywhere,
I feel like throwing a flag of protest in Tienanmen Square,
We need to care for mother earth and all of her natural defences,
But talk is cheap, and taking action is expensive,
We wear our hearts on our sleeves, our flags on our borders,
And that's why nuclear testings done in pacific foreign waters,
We follow reporters with the worth of a scholar,
And gather personal opinions from a rag worth a dollar,
Man this is not a subject; I feel lightly I can talk on,
The attitude is one man of many, so walk on.