[Intro: Fatface & Pressure]

It’s the Mongrels, the Hoods and DJ Bonez

With Mass MC and four microphones

We’re about to get down, and prove we catch wreck

And make you bounce more than a conman’s cheque

[Verse 1: Fatface]

I’m in full effect (What?), like PJ’s magazine

All my flows are butter 'cause I don’t use margarine

Mate, spread the word, Fatface is dropping raps

I got your head nodding to the kicks, snare and claps

Perhaps you need a drink? Well, shout me one too

When I bust lyrics, I get thirsty for a brew

Why not grab a slab? I’m sure the Hood’s agree

"There’s nothing like a coldy, even better when it’s free”

Stylish rhymes get flexed, especially when I’m drunk

The piss in my system brings out the funk

Sometimes I run amok, but now I’m just maxin'

Back to the beat, that’s my way of relaxin'

I live for hip-hop, then sculling down a lager

Ever [?] a hangover and the headaches seem harder

What I really can’t stand is a pissed, bogan wanker

[?] more than Warney hates Sri Lanka

Still my life is chill, it's kinda like an Esky

Do I have any complaints? They’re all pretty pesky

Maybe alcohol poisoning, but that I don’t fear

The one thing I do is a pub with no beer

[Verse 2: Mass MC]

Now I’m a crossbred that’s humble

Mass MC be [?] dismember ones that mumbled lyricism

Crews locked in verbal prison, their style's weak

While dominion crew work a collab on Hilltop’s streets

This is my fam, Debris hard up for once

When he ate mega RAMs

Studio got more lights than a [?] Caravan

All I smell in Adelaide is cones

I ain’t seen an ugly chic yet, or skyscrapers

But heaps of vapors on walls, it’s for a cause

B-boys and girls in this part of Aus rock for sure

Mad yumps run underground plantations (Ha)

I see it in their faces, they’re deeper than Hattians

DJ Bonez spin faster than a scuzzy two drive

Hahahahaha, run and hide

So how could you even think of tryna do these things?

I put fishing line on your hands and feet [?] pulling strings

[Verse 3: Pressure]

Now who the MCs that bring it liver and tighter

From freestyle writers, to biters, DJ Bones the insider

Now, perfection’s what I strive for, 'cause I'ma true survivor

Hear my voice from the underground, 'less you a diver

Now put your hands together for the sound provider

'Cause many found desire to cover ground that’s higher

Than these men speaking in tongues that make your eardrums bleed

Not here to give 'em what they want, we here to give 'em what they need

But some got fascination for the trash they make and they just masturbation

Laceration's from pubescent infatuations

I rock tracks, 100 percent saturation

It all comes down to the cash we're making and wack creations

From stagnations blocking your airways

MCs rocking for airplay, won’t you stop in Belair way?

Ah, Pressure set it in motion, I gets heavy on the track

I took some from hip-hop, but got a whole lot back

Got cut a whole lot of slack, paying dues, from twisting caps

Now they insistin' that I kick a rap, so where the listeners at?

(All gathered around) I'll make moves to pay dues

Mate, who's the one to break youse and your fake crews?

That’s late news, now I socialise with the local guys

Put it on wax to vocalise global wise

And I don’t stop the rock, you know we won’t, Suffa

Show ‘em how we [?] show ‘em how we don't

[Verse 4: Suffa]

Well, I’d like to know where

You got the notion (Suffa MC)

Said, I’d like to know where

You got the notion (DJ Bonez, DJ Debris)

That I’m not number one b-boy, [?] all of y’all

Keepin' crowds packed from wall to wall

So rock, rock y'all (Rock y'all), don’t stop y’all (Stop y'all)

Yes, yes y'all (Yes y'all), you keep on, like

Time, marching in formation, Hilltop is (Is)

Foot soldiers for the hip-hop nation

Battling flows with flows, battling hoes at shows

Lyrical can doe, lyrical can doe

So smash (Smash), backslash, I take your title

With the sewer sounds of my suicidal recital

Who is down? You better be, 'cause this rhyme will

Cut up MCs like DJs on vinyl

T—time will be the final decider

So when it comes down to it the underground fluid

Shall rise to the top and flood these streets with

Suffa’s speech over muddy beats

Wassup, we speak, we build, we talk

On a culture imported here from New York

It’s hip-hop, it lives inside of us

And we only let it out when we bust