Bodycount (Suffa Remix)

[Intro: [?]] You know, music always—nothing never stays the same, that's what I'm saying. You know, nothing never stays the same, so right now we're at the point where it's like, "All right, you still got... real people that took music seriously still living in the mix, in the days and times where all this bullshit is taking place, so we can go 'head and tell the difference. [Scratches: DJ Reflux] "Let’s—Let’s—Let’s go" "Y'all ready or what?" "Hill—Hill—Hilltop Hoods" "Funk—Funk—Funkoars" "I'll take a body count, I know my body count is right" "Yeah" "Let’s—Let’s—Let’s [?]" "My body count is right" "[?]" "Got five MC that wanna contest we" [Verse 1: Hons] Ask the bookies, 'Oars picked the dollar one favourite To top all your playlists, still R rated as hell Not for the kiddies I tell You know all about the city I dwell It’s a dirty South Adelaide, home where the heart is Gave all to music so I roam with the martyrs Lived next to Buffa, he showed me Bodycount 15 years later and it’s more than just a hobby now More than just a muck about run-of-the-mill Stamp our name on the scene like done on the pill, shit! The [?] of rap so kudos to that Lost my mind and it ain’t come back Swear to God that I ain’t got a cell left Sex sells and we can always start with my bellend Well friends, I guess we back at it We supply the demand, here's the dope for you rap addicts [Verse 2: Pressure] You and Pressure ain't the same type, you ain't like me You can find me where the late night and daytime meet Start a riot like a hate crime, then take my leave I'm sick to death of being positive like HIV (Classic P) Y'all ain't here to listen But you tap into my lines like News Corp and fear admission Sheer precision differs from my peers admission Driven by the next hit like a rear collision (Come on) We on the conquering grind Not a sign that these rappers are deaf, they only robbin' the blind Don't wanna find or hear my name dropped in your rhyme Champagne tasting [?] you're crossing the line Ain't nothing to me, the martyr of another MC We ain't steppin' on them toes, it's a crushing defeat Up in this beat with the 'Oars where there's something to see Suffa, Debris, let it be, you ain't fucking with me [Scratches: DJ Reflux] "Let’s—Let’s—Let’s go" "Y'all ready or what?" "Hill—Hill—Hilltop Hoods" "Funk—Funk—Funkoars" "I'll take a body count, I know my body count is right" "Yeah" "Let’s—Let’s—Let’s [?]" "My body count is right" "[?]" "Got five MC that wanna contest we" [Verse 3: Trials] My name is T, learned to Logic through Debris Now I do the beats with the style and do the E Skip the pleasantries when I'm in the city streets, baggy Can't hide nothing in skinny jeans, I'm saggin' Calling me a bastard is bragging Fuck all that new shit, slap 'em with a parrot, wonderful plumage (Can't do it!?) When they feel safe playing their tracks Amongst they friends, taking it there, I'm taking it back So bring 'em round pal, tell 'em Trigga's in the booth X-Rays the next day, a little fingers in their womb Mmm, you can smell it, work three years On a release, you email 'em to your friends and D-L it, so it's on [?] megaton nuclear bomb We all love them rap songs, but you doin' 'em wrong I hit the radio, go! Dust off the dials You can always fuck around, pro'bly just not with Trials You go [Scratches (Condensed): DJ Reflux] "Y'all—Y'all ready or what?" "Hill—Hill—Hilltop Hoods" "Funk—Funk—Funkoars" "I'll take a body count, I know my body count is right" [Verse 4: Sesta] Wuss, my intentions is iller, dinner? Great big bottle of painkillers When I come around someone in Manilla Saw a whole fucking prison dancing the "Thriller" (what?!) With a self-deluded attitude Doing it better than you is up my avenue I don't know a rapper who do it better than Adam, Dan or Matthew Prolly drinking Sprite with Malibu, problem is (What!?) You prob'ly paying to an arsehole Not in demand, but your heart's whole You dumb as the motherfuckers you targetin' Never be an artist, but you're marvellous at marketin' We took the hard road like Hilltop With an army of lunatics, just like Hillsong Hands in the air like they feeling the pill drop And watch 'em go down, down, down [Verse 5: Suffa] Well jump on it, snap an ankle Flux you get 'em with the hand skills (Classic Example) Ayy, we up, [?] content of your [?] So ease up, they call me that E cup, I'm a handful You making records I've seen in landfills While I'm catching wreck like a train that is leaving Granville Station (All aboard) Scramble When you're in the place and all aboard standstill You gotta get them out their shell like escargot I got beats that make retailers break the embargo I got my eyes on a narco 'Cause I see Vents One racking up lines like a barcode Got Fuad the famalam, Honson the gambler Hunter out west, I got Hauie up in Canberra [?] grandma, man, I got Two black eyes to have ya lookin' like a Panda [Scratches: DJ Reflux] "Let’s—Let’s—Let’s go" "Y'all ready or what?" "Hill—Hill—Hilltop Hoods" "Funk—Funk—Funkoars" "I'll take a body count, I know my body count is right" "Yeah" "Let’s—Let’s—Let’s [?]" "My body count is right" "[?]" "Got five MC that wanna contest we"