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Текст песни Hilltop Hoods - The Nosebleed Section

Hilltop Hoods - The Nosebleed Section слова песни

[Verse One - Suffa]This is for the heads that`s loving the mixMy people in the front, all covered in spitBatters in the box, Suffa to pitchHilltop Hoods, all up in this bitchAnd we the funk leaders, punks you can`t beat usWe bump and pump meters, we drunk you chumps need usSo jump with us, down in the front if it`sYour flavour, come get drunk with usThis life turned out nothing likeI had planned, why not?By now I should`ve had some landSome money in my hand, round about fifty grandBut I got nothing, I write rhymes on the busI keep suffering; fuck the lines of the dustYou keep sniffing, that shit is for the punk hoesThis shit is for my bros, my people in the front row[Verse Two - Suffa]I got hip-hop taste budsI wanna hear that bass when I make loveI wanna hear some lyrics when I wake upWrite rhymes to get me through a break up, bitch!Rough like whisky straight, no chaserWent through fifty breaks, no flavourTill I found this one, and made theBass hook with the drum, my saviourThis is the comeback, tongue that`s sharp like a thumbtackIt`s so tight James is saying give my funk backOne track, eight track, a-dat, residualNoise, man fuck that, we clean with the digitalToys I`m the Apache, you`re failing to match meThrow your hands in the air like you`re hailing a taxiAnd move to the funk flow, you stepping? Are you drunk bro?This is for my peeps and the freaks in the front row[Verse Three - Suffa]People don`t complain if Suffa`s in hereAnd you`re in the front row, all covered in beerAnd club owners don`t say `the place is wrecked it`s your fault`If the roof is on fire it`s an electrical faultMan I bet you all bolt, when I bring it liveLike Friday night footy, in my hoody can hide IGets live on the breaks son, like pace oneLads, if you`re heading to the bar grab your mates oneLadies come chill, come rock with me honeyI got like half a mill in monopoly moneyThere`s no stopping me honey, so you can take my handWe can lay on the beach and count grains of sandOr take a plane to Japan, and drink saki with mafiaFly to Libya for some Bacardi with Gadafi aDinner date, followed by a funk showWe`ll rip off our tops and jump around in the front row

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