The Return - Hilltop Hoods

Duck and cover

'Cause when you fuck with Suffa it’s like the bombs dropped

You spit like Bon Jovi, we spit like Bon Scott

We got it on lock: deadlock, non-stop head-nod

Even when the song stop

Step in the cypher and it’s danger

I’ll set the Pressure on you like a hyperbaric chamber

And he don’t fuck around, we’ve gained such renown

For this state of the art custom sound

For them custom built rappers with underskilled narratives

The good die young, me and Suff are still bad with this

Rhyme style it’s lethal, prime time the sequel

Ain’t got a single fan just like-minded people

I told you from the start, I’m a soldier of the art

Effortless, take every breathe and hold it to your heart

With Debris and my brother Suffa, so watch another sucker run for cover

It’s the return of the motherfucking motherfuckers

I don’t give a goddamn, listen, I don’t know

(How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid)

I don’t give a goddamn (on the shows you did)

(How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid)

I don’t give a goddamn, listen, I don’t know

(How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid)

Mr. Debris (blow the horns on 'em, not now but right now)

Obsessive compulsive, repulsive, insulting

Offensive like feeding a vegan some dolphin

Assaulting the system, a system that’s broken

The cistern is broken, the shit is just floating

I spit till your open underground

P-Dela-Ressure and he don’t fuck around

Now album number five, worked hard to earn that

No doubt it was a fight, too far to turn back

I step in the sun, take the weather however it comes

Although I’m a second son, I’m second to none

Lesson is done, what goes around comes around

Suffa’s down, and he don’t fuck around

The Hood spits the news like Wolf Blitzer, crews

Fear the pit bull in the pulpit, yo it’s the

World War Three in a whisper — the Mr Suffa

And Mr Pressure, we rips it rougher/we spits it fresher

I don’t give a goddamn, listen, I don’t know

(How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid)

I don’t give a goddamn (on the shows you did)

(How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid)

«the boys we got coming through the windows.

They’re coming through the

ceiling coming from the floorboards man.

Bring those boys down here.

I want them on stage right now!»

Your nemesis on verses, the desperate and worthless

Try and flame the name we can wrestle in a furnace

Never came half-hearted, never came last started

Everyday like it’s my last till my craft’s mastered

And we can get it on

I’m at peace with myself cause there’s a piece of myself in every song

I don’t just write rhymes, I spent a life time building

A life line accommodating night times children

And now they love the sound, play me with a

Gravyspitter and he don’t fuck around

Check, ain’t no stepping to me

Cause P and Suffa bad mutha’s like Treacherous Three

So (feel the heartbeat, feel the heartbeat)

You feel your hearts weak cause still you can’t beat

The Hills and aren’t we just still too rugged?

I can feel you love it, we the real blue blooded, c’mon!

I don’t give a goddamn, listen, I don’t know

(How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid)

I don’t give a goddamn (on the shows you did)

(How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid)

I don’t give a goddamn, listen, I don’t know

(How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid)

Mr. Debris (blow the horns on 'em, not now but right now)