Verse One - Suffa This is for the heads that My people in the front, all covered in spit, Batters in the box, Suffa to pitch, Hilltop Hoods, all up in this b**h, And we the funk leaders, punks you can We bump and pump meters, we drunk you chumps need us, So jump with us, down in the front if it Your flavour, come get drunk with us, This life turned out nothing like I had planned, why not? By now I should Some money in my hand, round about fifty grand, But I got nothing, I write rhymes on the bus, I keep suffering; f** the lines of the dust, You keep sniffing, that sh** is for the punk hoes, This sh** is for my bros, my people in the front row. Verse Two - Suffa I got hip-hop taste buds, I wanna hear that ba** when I make love, I wanna hear some lyrics when I wake up, Write rhymes to get me through a break up, b**h! Rough like whisky straight, no chaser, Went through fifty breaks, no flavour,
Till I found this one, and made the, Ba** hook with the drum, my saviour, This is the comeback, tongue that It One track, eight track, a-dat, residual Noise, man f** that, we clean with the digital, Toys I Throw your hands in the air like you And 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 And you And club owners don If the roof is on fire it Man I bet you all bolt, when I bring it live Like Friday night footy, in my hoody can hide I, Gets live on the breaks son, like pace one, Lads, if you Ladies come chill, come rock with me honey, I got like half a mill in monopoly money, There We can lay on the beach and count grains of sand, Or take a plane to Japan, and drink saki with mafia, Fly to Libya for some Bacardi with Gadafi a Dinner date, followed by a funk show, We