[Suffa] + (Pressure) 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 minivan 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-ass 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 pollies ain'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
[Chorus 2X: Mama Cass \"California Earthquake\" sample] \"I heard they exploded, the underground They say it's gonna happen, the underground\"
[Classified] + (Suffa) Where at? Huh? Uh, 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 They 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 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
[Pressure] We about to blow it up, but we all started this as amateur Carving out a path was a hardship for the traveller Huh, said that rap's a facade, you'll never manage it In these parts, guess it's our scars that give us character We misfits and slackers, at-risk kids or hackers with a wish list, sick of doing six shifts at Macca's From listeners to rappers, prestigious to hapless I don't need a gift to know that this shit is backwards When done officially, another visionary will light the flame, write their name in their sweat, blood and infamy It's gutter symphony, fuck the industry Let them come, we're the ones carving history So we rhyme for the hurt and poor, hard work and for international, heard applause, to local suburban tour Y'all gave a purpose for the roar when the curtains draw Furthermore, ask yourself what you're searching for
[Solo] Follow me, to a place I like to go Liner notes are signposts to find that which lies below Born in '88 so I came in late to find for the first time in life I felt right at home Through the growing pains and hostile takeovers People trying to put us down like Beethoven We stayed strong and remained focussed till they had no other choice, but to stand up and take notice Never thought that what I wrote on a page back in the day would ever have me catching a plane, or rapping up on a stage Staring out at the crowd in amazement, thinking back on the days when we were confined to the limitations of the basement The subterranean kids became the main event I pay respect to those who spent days laying foundations Countdown to detonation