Verse 1 – SuffanYou sound like a bitch man,nNymphos in your clip and disco riffs man,nI'll tell you this, OK, it don't fit man,nIt's like OJ, little glove, big hand,nStep to this I'll take your miss, make her twist and,nMoan, like I fucked with the pitch man,nThis land where the bricks stand,nOn red sands, I spit grams of powdered Difflam,nTo ease your muscle pain, do the hustle,nCame to tussle against the corporate gain man,nParcels move train to plane in the struggle,nMarkers give a claim to fame in the jungle,nStreet revolutionaries, we the evolutionary,nAnomalies, but stupidly they try stopping me,nThat's only making me a martyr we,nLike opiates in the vein, attack the arteries,nDon't get smart with me; I got a heart in me,nLike Pharlap, and gone so far raps now a part of me,nI got camaraderie, the great unwashed,nI got a heart in me that pump's straight up scotch,nBut crews still try to diss me, till I switch it on em,nLike they try to diss Fats, till they see a picture of him,nBig boys, aint small man, they tall and,nUgly, want to cut me come join and join the monsters ball man.nnVerse 2 – PressurenThese are the last of days, a vast array,nOf fake fucks up in a masquerade,nIt's swim or drown, we act we don't sink,nIts primal instinct we rap we don't think,nIts do or die, no turning back like suicide,nTill you're doing time with these cut throats in a suit and tie,nSo don't feed the animals, or act a fool,nYour just one man, a young lamb amongst a pack of wolves,nWhile you're fighting over scraps and loose change and moot claims,nPressures higher up in the food chain,nAnd small time predators rove in packs,nThat why big time executives throw them scraps,nSo much static that this is such a hazardous business,nAnd having to witness that half these rappers are bitches,nGot me laughing hysterically, I've the heart of a pedigree,nSo pissing on the next man is just marking my territory,nRivals will claim over head strong beef,nAnd try, fighting for fame on these slept on streets,nWhile I'm, signing my name in the wet concrete,nTouching both sides of your brain when I flex on beats,nAnd when we sound the drums, I'll see cowards hung,nWhen my hour comes I'd rather catch a beat down than run,nIt's just that honest, I don't rap for these monsters,nId rather face the music than turn my back on you.