Double Dutch

[Verse 1: Sesta] Nowadays everybody fucking with Ses' The only reason 'cause he prob'ly the best, well, nah, I'm fucking witcha He ain't shit and he ain't rich The heathen in black that's keen on a drink and you better give it to him Security saying, "Leave with your mess" It's funny the shit you do when you're needing to piss ("Piss off, alright?") I need to leave in a hurry "I like the track you do about the ladies suck in they tummies (Haow) Rhymes ain't shit, dig the chorus Now which Oar is you? Step in the pit for us" Course, I will (Course, you will!) With a grin (With a grin!) But the questions, they do me in Feeling piss poor in the morning Until the piss pouring again, come on, say it Feeling piss poor in the morning Until the piss pouring again, yeah! [Verse 2: Pressure] I came in the door, must'a been later than four That's what you get when you're mates with the Oars Spent the day in remorse, nature taking its course And what this world don't gimme, I'ma take it by force And it's fair to say if I'd never made a cent for My record play wouldn't feel like every day's a bender Always said it straight, never set a fake agenda Not clever, mate, fuckin' with a heavyweight contender (Suckers) Ain't no use in holdin' the grudges Be my hype man so I can say I roll with the punches The only thing that comes free is what you've stolen from others The air you breathe? Ain't nothing you can hold in your clutches Till I'm old and on crutches, I'll still kill a mic If hip-hop's dead then 2Pac's still alive Pressure's ill, who's gonna inherit the skill? You don't get it, now you never will, you never were [Scratches: DJ Reflux] "Boom, boom, bap, boom, bam" "Boom, boom, bap, boom, bam" "Think about it while you're messing up, clown" "Boom, boom, bap, boom, bam" "He had no idea" "DJ Reflux" "[?] nice with his hands" [Verse 3: Trials] Yeah, I'm tryna get enough bank to never break fifties And have big things in front of me, like fake titties But, [?], you guessed it Every single cent that I got spent it instead of investing, ha! 'Nough said so, check We measure success counting the fans that wanna suck Sest And budget? Fuck it We never clean like [?] a fiend taking a drug test Smart sex that I pedal on front brakes Like Lance Armstrong, but his nuts ain't And that's below the belt, get it? I said, "His nuts ain't", and that's 'below the belt', check it I wanna travel the world, jet to The Netherlands Run amok, meet some girls bag a Double Dutch Ha! Who else do it like this And rap his arse off? Imagine what I'd do with my dick [Verse 4: Suffa, Trails] T You want a Double Dutch? Well, I wanna blow it up (Dude, you know it sucks) Nobody sharing, we all going Dutch We the friends that wanna fill the dinner plates ([?]) Eva Mendes, wanna feel the dinner plates A dinner date with Suff, dumb as dogshit About as much fun as a lift from Matthew Broderick (Oh shit) Toxic, convention-type good looks Hoods put it down like Hons pissing on the good book (Whoops, oh) Too many cooks with 16s, not enough fans So big schemes sound like big scams (Ho!) Big hands! Know what that means—big slap Big plans! Know what that means—pig sack (Dig that!) Gift-wrapped and served by a girl With such a big rack you'd think that they stuffed her bra By bringing B.I.G. back, so get back, the kid's back Staring at you recycling like, "Yo, you gonna drink that?" (Cheah, cheah, cheah, come on) [Scratches: DJ Debris] "Boom, boom, bap, boom, bam" "Think about it while you're messing up, clown" "Boom, boom, bap—bap—bap Bap—bap—bap Boom—boom—boom—boom—boom—boom— Boom, boom, bap, boom, bam" "He had no idea" "DJ Debris" "[?] nice with his hands" [Verse 5: Hons] Man, I used to be a Centrelink king Until I got caught, shit, now I'm pawning my things Quit the moral talk, man, it's killing my binge I only got one life to rip my liver to bits The villainous kid from the south of the city Brought up right but Hackam turned my mouth kinda gritty, I'm Hard to swallow like a gobstopper Shit, I'm a rap star, man, I don't need to be a cockblocker The pissed idiot, still a gambling man But I wouldn't dump my cash in a shit syndicate Stone-cold sleaze Hons, and I just finished Twenty-five shows and still got a clean johnson I'm on par with T for a girl in every state New goal to be like Magic, minus the AIDS Pouring Jäger down my throat till I'm flat on my arse At the bar, with the friend screaming, "Sha-na-na" [Verse 6: Vents] I'm the fish in the Proverbial pond, I never wanna get along With the hammerheads and I ain't happy till my habit fed Fuck all in the cabinets Little bit of rice, cigarettes, and the mice keep having sex Holes in the walls of my brain Sowing the seeds of discontent, but still praying for rain [?] my girl put out Said the pill make her fat, so I pull out Just in time, paranoid and restless Unemployed, we praying for death by asbestos Life sucks and ya die One more of these and it's prob'ly goodbye, but I'm enjoying the ride And we saying goodnight, [?] To the [?] slut see the big bright light, all right It's the rise of the tyrant, both guns firing Fucking you raw while I'm smiling, what up?