The Calling Hilltop Hoods

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[Verse 1: Pressure]
For many years I was
Seekin' asylum, in the bleakest environments
Rhyme possessed me, while many started speakin' retirement
So as I rose, they all fell in the fashion of yellin' and trashin'
For what it's worth, there was no quellin' the passion
Their love was dead, I was writing papes but getting fuck all said
So I polished my shit until my knuckles bled
Treading thin ice and all I caught were chills
Sacrifices were appetisers, mics instead of meals
This hand was mine, so I played it until I made it expand my mind
And burned my name into the sands of time
Then rhyme gave me strength to less avail
Got used to these backstabbers, so now I sleep on a bed of nails
I never fail, but turning tides are moving too slow
I swam the depths of every ocean just to prove I could flow
So from the cradle to the grave, turntable to Holy Father
I swear I didn’t slit my wrists, I got the hip-hop stigmata

[Chorus: Suffa]
You got to pray to hip-hop almighty
We bless the microphone nightly
Open up the lyric from inside me
It's our calling that's why we say
You got to pray to hip-hop almighty
We bless the microphone nightly
Open up the lyric from inside me
It's our calling that's why we say