Intro:
Yo, this joint right here is dedicated to all the motherf**ers who fell off (yeah)
And the motherf**ers who's about to fall off
Verse 1: Purpose
It's uh, Mr. If The If The City Had A
Turn the ba** up till the place, jump in the window shatter
Miss me with the banter, My man I been a factor
The benefactor with ink - your man's the missing chapter
Phizzle this a banger, Illy let's get it cracking
Twist the fabric of time with a rhyme my style is systematic
I scribble something so ill you wish that you didn't capture
Twist a fat one and sprinkle this here with a little magic
When you and your friends rhyme it's bedtime, I'm snoring
Whether or not I headline... Yes I'm supporting
Flavour drip through the speaker when I'm recording
If charisma's a disease I could be dead by the morning
My man, we are the entire f** out here
Lights up, Ryan's up, fire up the sound gear
Been accused of the recklessness but I don't dispute the evidence
I just reload the click (gun co*k)
And shoot the messenger (gun shot)
Verse 2: J Stark
Hey it's that bloke from the water's edge
One stroke gets your daughter wet
You're getting served like you haven't ordered yet
I score a rep by putting verses in the morgue
Til my services are more sought after than a who*e's
I'm getting plenty buddy, How you getting yours?
I'm getting paid the pen and page, add a little more
We smack a stage til it needs to be restored
And I do this sh** because I love it not because I'm bored
Moved away from Beauy but it's pumping through my heart
Now I represent the Frankston line and going f**ing hard
Aiming for the stars been rolling from the start
Now I'm sharing tracks with motherf**ers holding golden plaques
Braithwaite Steeze, Wild animal mentality
And haters getting mad at rappers doubling their salary
They're talking sh** I ain't hearing what they telling me
The colour that they seeing's greener than a stick of celery
Verse 3: Bitter Belief
Yeah, Introductions aside
You asking - Who am I?
I'm the owner of a gallery, your tour guide
And you can leave with stained shirts
Cos tryna understand how my brain works is suicide
I got a beautiful mind covered in sewer slime
And if you look a little closer there's a clue inside
To get past the putrid grime like few have tried
Then you could possibly ruin your eyes
Am I crazy? You decide
All I know is my rhymes are so pimped that I write them in a suit and tie
I'm superman flying through the sky, but you guys wouldn't recognise a hero in a new disguise
Life's like shooting the dice or gambling
But you just rambling, standing with your hand on the mic
I ain't battling an amateur, get your calibre right
I'll leave you pussies afraid like you're Hannibal's wife
Verse 4: Raven
Check the floodgates (what)
That door needs closing shut
They're like a f**face in p**n scenes, I know they s**
Put ‘em on parole so they can walk free to go get f**ed
Get your own style cause yous all seems to be clones of us
With no character character, Boring stoner c*nts
It's so embarra**ing, it's like the Portuguese showing up the Spanish with Brazil
The whole East is owned by us
I have 'em crashing at will like the torpedoes blowing up (boom)
Hit the battleship and all fleets of that floated sunk
Quicker than a cattle whip on raw meat drove to cuts
The prodigal son since 14 when token bud
Still tropical son with tall trees and coconuts
My art sells for peanuts like poor street folk that bust
The Cartel Team bust with more heat than smoking guns *bam*
One of the finest, If you fought me you only just survived if you're Irish
Four-leaf clover luck
Verse 5: Prime
Uh, If you were gifted then it must have been a lump of coal
But still you're full of yourself like one of them Russian dolls
If you're shooting for the top you should adjust the goals
If I walked a mile in your shoes it would crush my soul
Saw you live, who would pay though to book you?
If you tried to get some girls there then they overlooked you
Men, men, men like that lame show with Kutcher
A total sausage fest like a trade show for butchers
Uh, this is Adelaide talking
I'm an animal coursing through my preys, natural habitat stalking, just hungry
If there's beef then I'm jabbing my fork in
At the mere f**ing mention of a battle they walking
And if not
Then they got more than your standard d**hwish
Weird, most of them are sweeter than a candy necklace
Always got something left to write like I was ambidextrous
And if my music's declined... how come my fans accept it?
Verse 6: Illy
Yo
Chopping up with blunt papes, Rocking with a verse
Hopping off the runway, dropping in a vert
Either way I'm rolling, optimal at worst
You ain't seeing me unless you got binoculars at work biatc*
But don't get mad about it, be a man about it - Chin up
It's brand-spanking steeze
Hand back the hand-me-downers
Swap those rhymes and swallow pride
They still paying dues off of borrowed time
And cue my flows monsoon sh**
You pals dog food, barking up the wrong eucalypt
6 shooters, grip mics
We see red and blast like a hoover crip
Higher than thread counts on your goose-down dooners b**h
Its big kahuna sh**
And I ain't heard of your small fries in big towns
Man up or sit down
Mercenary spits
Hired guns on the disc, Bound to k** by the contract
And keep putting hits out *gunshot*