Lyrics State of the Art - Hilltop Hoods

Duck and cover,
Cos when you fuck with Suffa it's like the bombs dropped,
You spit like Bon Jovi, we spit like Bon Scott,
We got it on lock, deadlock, non-stop, head-nod,
Even when the song stop,
Step in the cipher and it's danger,
I'll set the Pressure on you like a hyperbaric chamber,
And he don't fuck around, we've gained such renown,
For this state of the art custom sound,
For them custom built rappers with under skilled narratives,
The good die young, me and Suff are still bad with this,
Rhyme style it's lethal, prime time the sequel,
Aint got a single fan just like minded people,
I told you from the start, I'm a soldier of the art,
Effortless, take every breathe and hold it to your heart,
With Debris and my brother Suffa,
So watch another sucker run for cover,
It's the return of the motherfucking motherfuckers

Obsessive compulsive, repulsive, insulting,
Offensive like feeding a vegan some dolphin,
Assaulting the system, a system that's broken,
The cistern is broken, the shit is just floating,
I spit till your open underground,
P-Dela-Ressure and he don't fuck around,
Now Album number five, worked hard to earn that,
No doubt it was a fight, too far to turn back,
I step in the sun, take the weather however it comes,
Although I'm a second son I'm second to none,
Lesson is done, what goes around comes around,
Suffa's down, and he don't fuck around,
The Hood spits the news like Wolf Blitzer, crews,
Fear the pit bull in the pulpit, yo it's the,
World War Three in a whisper – the Mr Suffa,

Your nemesis on verses, the desperate and worthless,
Try and flame the name we can wrestle in a furnace,
Never came half-hearted, never came last started,
Everyday like it's my last till my craft's mastered,
And we can get it on,
I'm at peace with myself cause
There's a piece of myself in every song,
I don't just write rhymes, I spent a life time building,
A life line accommodating night times children,
And now they love the sound, play me with a,
Gravyspitter and he don't fuck around,
Ain't no stepping to me,
Cos P and Suffa bad mutha's like Treacherous Three,
So feel the heartbeat, feel the heartbeat,
You feel your hearts weak cos still you can't beat,
The Hills and aren't we just still too rugged?
I can feel you love it, we the real blue blooded