[Verse 1: Vents]
We head banging with Hilltop, the heavy metal devil supporter
Attention deficit, definite mental disorder
Got a mental machete, Vents he be ready for slaughter
Welfare fraud, full-time benefit rorter
Bought a half-ounce, next day left with a quarter
Got a pound then I'm heading for Victorian border
Going Brendan Fevola, bipolar berserk
At the Brownlow medal with alcohol on my shirt
This world will eat you up and have your soul for dessert
Then charge five grand to lie in a hole in the dirt
Drop a conflict blood rock, African gem
Molest the microphone like an old family friend
Call me the Fat Controller, black hat with black everything on
Running things, right where he belong
Black coffee, white c**aine, I'm wide awake
The west side strangler, s**er, deciding your fate, what?
[Scratches: DJ Debris]
"Head crack, talk back, verbal attack
You get ..." - terrified - "... with my lyric impact" - Cappadonna
"Head crack, talk back, verbal attack
You get ..." - terrified - "... with my lyric impact" - Cappadonna
"Chaos is all around me" - Nas
"Nothing can save ya" - Method Man
"Chaos is all around me" - Nas
"Nobody's safe" - Method Man
"Chaos is all around me" - Nas
"As the world turned I learned life is hell" - Inspectah Deck
[Verse 2: Pressure]
It's a good night for the likes of me and my camp
We light fires, run riot through your speakers and amps
When I write, won't tire till I bleed from my hands
And come alive in the night like a thief with a plan
P is the man, believe it when I'm leaving my stamp
We in demand like asking for your fee in advance
But they will lose, paying dues ain't a fee you can scam
They hands out, always moaning like a scene of The Damned
People don't appreciate what they see in their hands
And damage it like Liam Gallagher beating a fan
These beats are a brand for those that paint streets with a can
Unleashing the champ, asking is he beast or a man?
Emcees await release dates like they've been in the can
And feed on the fans, supplying industry in demand
But need to expand, controlling all their freedom and brand
Time is running out like an oil leak in Iran
[Chorus]
[Verse 3: Suffa]
A soldier of the first world
I swapped my camo for some denim and sneakers
Strapped with mental ammo, venom, telekinesis
Dancing with the Devil and Jesus
I'm the cancer in the marrow, I'm the ulcer in the belly of the beast
Feast on unsk**ed wordsmiths on banging breaks
Sick as the drug-fueled murder of Sharon Tate
Amputating the sick limb, split skin
Sitting in a circle banging on the pig skin
Riding tuk-tuks through Thailand reading Cormac McCarthy
My headphones blast me Fugazi and Nasty - Nas
Smoking cigarettes dipped in Wasabi
If the military catch me, they'll charge me and starve me
It'll make a fat boy slim when the wardens cook
But I'm a Fatboy Slim like I'm Norman Cook
Flawless hooks, spitters all gasp for breath
Masked in darkness with Vents, stressed, marked for d**h, check
[Chorus]