Fatface (Flak) - Tolerance Levels lyrics

[Verse 1: Ma** MC] I conversate to all emcees with my double jointed tongue Slapping, f** ya wack rapping Taking-a-bite-out-of-ya-mix and best mic just happening You're lacking in persona While I throw lyric bombardments to your crew in every corner I discharge a mad flow that'll stop dogs from barking Snap your leg bones so you can use disabled parking Give you unimaginable meanings to the word f**ing Your raps mean nothing, I'll get your grandma to cook me muffins Move in so I can hide eggs in the neighbour's ceiling In plastic bags next to the c**aine and Bruce Lee key rings You emcees are still teething, intriguing Before the battle pleading, after that your heads are bleeding Miraculous flows with raggedy clothes, my trademark Overweight but I'll still move fast, on any beat that's hard You claiming to be battle emcees with tight flows and integrity? Blow me, you motherf**ers are far from scary [Verse 2: Pressure MC] Pressure MC, get with me, from Adelaide to Sydney This be dedicated to emcees that struck out but still yelling "Hit me!" With their gimmicks and imagery, this isn't ability They barely stand on their own two, I got infinite stability The difference admittedly is minimally in your favour The thinnest paper, while I got the flavour to stimulate ya Senses and integrate the presence in every sentence So I harness life essence and kept my blessings as lessons My tolerance overloads, emcees are over-exposed Can't get over themselves like females can't get over clothes Hip Hop is overdosed like here we over rose this distortion now Every arsehole got an opinion but it's mainly sh** talking I break new ground where many fall short of the high land, they tir-an Missed the point like saying "It's that way" to a blind man f**ed if I'mma by-stand while my cultures choking fast My tolerance is wearing thin, man they treading on broken gla** [Hook (2x)] Why... why... Tell me why-hy... Tell me why these emcees try-y-y... [Verse 3: Suffa MC] I'm reaching the threshold of my tolerance levels... Cause you might... Weather the storm but you can't stand the rain boy Gets played like a game boy I'll make you fu*kING SUFFER like my name boy Hey boy, what you got there? Is that a microphone? Well two's company so why not leave me and the mic alone? Fighting clones, sh** they lack, I'm walking on their grave when Alone on this mic so no one else is on my wavelength Gave strength to the weak, gave breath to the breathless You can take it to the street but it's like playing in asbestos Test us, like you're holier than thou, lose control of ya bounce Pack up your suitcase and fold up your blouse We all in the house, like home-arrest, I'm known to stress So show your best flow and let's see my next rhyme blow your chest Open like a surgeon's scalpel, I'll leave you hurt and doubtful Of your words cause this is murder in a mouthful Suffa bring disaster from within, hear the laughter from my kin I'll leave you with the Hoods logo plastered, crafted in your skin Step and bust, but realise there's no stopping us So watch your whole crew get f**ed like my dick was filled with phosphorus [Hook (2x)] Why... why... Tell me why-hy... Tell me why these emcees try-y-y... [Verse 4: Fatface] I've been busting raps since the days of fat laces There's a lot of new rappers, but they're not Fatfaces They're disgraces, they could never be compared to me "Flak are they really that bad?" Well I'm prepared to see I'll be at their stage show waiting in the front row And if they try and diss I'm gonna stop their flow Like cholesterol in the arteries and sh** in the S bend I'll rattle their whole crew and scull back the west end I'm destined to be known for ripping the microphone Try and bite like a clone, that'll never be condoned I've shown some restraint but now I've reached the edge Of my tolerance level, so it's you I'm gonna sledge I pledge allegiance to Australia, I'm a true Aussie rhymer Mate your raps stink more, than a prostitute's vagina I find your accents laughable to say the least You're far from honour with a life betting on junior treats fool [Verse 5: DJ Debris] Tell me why! I'm sick of misfits, I'm sick of twits I'm sick of internet gits that choke on microphone, miss From gargling piss, of their message board buddies They should be writing real raps, instead of uni studies I'm throwing stubbies, in their general direction They can only battle us, when they pa** our introspection Neglection, is the sole reason for this fake fate When the quality of life depends on board rate And E-mates, who's reality revolves around Incoming attachments and mp3 sounds They think they're bound for infinite glory But have got a multiple-choice perspective on this story "One" They go back to where they came from "Two" They study explosives then drop bombs "Three" They learn to stand up, fight and terrify "b**h" They look me in the eye and tell me why [Hook (2x)] Why... why... Tell me why-hy... Tell me why these emcees try-y-y...