Lyrics Tolerance Levels - Hilltop Hoods feat. Mass MC & Fatface
I
conversate
to
all
emcees
with
my
double
jointed
tongue
Slapping,
fuck
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
fucking
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
cocaine
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
motherfuckers
are
far
from
scary
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
shit
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
Fucked
if
I'mma
by-stand
while
my
cultures
choking
fast
My
tolerance
is
wearing
thin,
man
they
treading
on
broken
glass
Why...
why...
Tell
me
why-hy...
Tell
me
why
these
emcees
try-y-y...
I'm
reaching
the
threshold
of
my
tolerance
level...
Cause
you
might...
weather
the
storm
but
you
can't
stand
the
rain
boy
Gets
played
like
a
game
boy
I'll
make
you
FUCKING
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,
shit
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
fucked
like
my
dick
was
filled
with
phosphorus
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
shit
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
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
pass
ourspection
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
"Bitch"
They
look
me
in
the
eye
and
tell
me
why
![Hilltop Hoods feat. Mass MC & Fatface - Left Foot, Right Foot](https://pic.Lyrhub.com/img/f/t/p/w/mpNomOwpTf.jpg)
Album
Left Foot, Right Foot
1 Afternoon Group Session
2 Are You Ready
3 The Soul of the Beat
4 Left Foot, Right Foot
5 Immortal MC’s
6 What the Seasons Change
7 Another World
8 When I’m
9 Leaving Sideways
10 Running From the Storm
11 Distortion
12 Don’t Stop
13 Elevation (remix)
14 Baby Steps
15 Sojourn
16 Tolerance Levels
17 Immortal MC’s (remix)
18 I Believe
19 Omega
20 The Soul of the Beat (remix)
21 Elevation (88’ remix)
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