[Verse 1: Suffa]
We went from spitting jams to fifty fans in a little cramped room
A shoebox you couldn’t fit a shoe in to touring
Switzerland with my man in a mini-van
Being the man of the minute can happen in a minute man
And it’s funny, I’ve seen buddies that I trust turn away
‘Cause money can’t buy you love but it can earn you hate
And none of you gave a fuck till the movement went large
Now every crew is making music, every dude has got bars
Now every half-arse bar fly up in the bar rhymes
We sit about, spitting ‘bout the dark and the hard times
But got perspective on the fighting for the crowns and the such
When we encountered an old pal who had been down on his luck
In some Volleys pushing trolleys eating soup from a tin
My girl's like "golly, man these pollie’s aren’t improving a thing"
Well swap your worries for some Bolly, swap your suit for some wings
And fly with us, we light it up and it’s a beautiful thing
[Verse 2: Classified]
That’s where I started at, the days of Walkmans and Starter hats
The open mic nights mastering the art of rap
We man-made, underground like an artefact
We don’t need to worry when the market crash
I’m from the bottom, bottom of New Scotland
Planted all my seeds watered them then watched it blossom
Then they try to tell me over time we’d be forgotten, rotten
Thinking that you’re gonna keep me boxed in? Nonsense
Hilltop and Class rock till your noggin’s nodding
You can walk in my shoes but never fit in my jeans
I do this with no option till my body’s old and rotten and exhausted
Keep it going cause I’m living my dream
Till the grave we’ll spit the pain and, when it comes to picture painting
We might be the illest rated with the visuals illustrated
That’s ill communication, therapy for life without the rehabilitation
Keep waiting I’m about to blow up
We went from spitting jams to fifty fans in a little cramped room
A shoebox you couldn’t fit a shoe in to touring
Switzerland with my man in a mini-van
Being the man of the minute can happen in a minute man
And it’s funny, I’ve seen buddies that I trust turn away
‘Cause money can’t buy you love but it can earn you hate
And none of you gave a fuck till the movement went large
Now every crew is making music, every dude has got bars
Now every half-arse bar fly up in the bar rhymes
We sit about, spitting ‘bout the dark and the hard times
But got perspective on the fighting for the crowns and the such
When we encountered an old pal who had been down on his luck
In some Volleys pushing trolleys eating soup from a tin
My girl's like "golly, man these pollie’s aren’t improving a thing"
Well swap your worries for some Bolly, swap your suit for some wings
And fly with us, we light it up and it’s a beautiful thing
[Verse 2: Classified]
That’s where I started at, the days of Walkmans and Starter hats
The open mic nights mastering the art of rap
We man-made, underground like an artefact
We don’t need to worry when the market crash
I’m from the bottom, bottom of New Scotland
Planted all my seeds watered them then watched it blossom
Then they try to tell me over time we’d be forgotten, rotten
Thinking that you’re gonna keep me boxed in? Nonsense
Hilltop and Class rock till your noggin’s nodding
You can walk in my shoes but never fit in my jeans
I do this with no option till my body’s old and rotten and exhausted
Keep it going cause I’m living my dream
Till the grave we’ll spit the pain and, when it comes to picture painting
We might be the illest rated with the visuals illustrated
That’s ill communication, therapy for life without the rehabilitation
Keep waiting I’m about to blow up
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