Tekster: Hilltop Hoods. Conversations From A Speakeasy Restrung.

(feat. Okwerdz & Omni)

[Verse 1: Pressure]
Let's get introductions aside
Pressure, *Okwerdz* and Suffa tonight busting the mic like
Lately I've been hearing nothing but hype
Pen's mightier than your sword? Then you'd be (fucked) in a fight
From the point of the exact conception I've had perfection
And you ain't close to Omni even though you may lack direction
I've got a good heart, but bad intentions
Pressure don't need a map for reference I'm a man of legends
I'll last forever like bad impressions
Like the first night you cursed in adolescence
The way I slam a sentence can panic veterans
Some things are better left unsaid like anything that I have to mention
My loud mouths my downfall it's doubtful
I'll bite off more than I can chew cause I already got a mouthful
Act like I astound y'all, well I'm a scoundrel
With enemies but clich? is a friend of me, I'm out y'all

[Chorus:]
Pull up a chair, and kick your feet on the table
Let down you hair, lean back in your seat if you're able
We've got the Jazz, for your speakeasy conversations
It's the universal language of relaxation

[Verse 2: Okwerdz]
The seas are combining, to breed an alliance
It's not Omni, it's Okweez with the rhyming
Y'all need to be supporting these cats with a passion
Instead of beefing about what accent they rap with
As if it ain't tough enough to come up with a record
Just ask the hoods, you really could suffer from the pressure
You get it? It's hard to let me tell you, mad at this era
I wish fans in America were as hungry as they are in Australia
I got the heart, I won't fail you
I got stuff from the broads in the bars, and something raw for the fellas
Just recline back, just get chill with your style
Aiyyo and why's that? Cause I'm sick of yelling so loud
But I'm the hungriest alive kid the dude won't wait
So turn your head for a sec and you might lose your plate
So when Stockton meets Adelaide
(Fuck) it, just bring the platinum plagues this way, OK?

[Chorus]

[Verse 3: Suffa]
I heard there ain't no party like an open bar
We lay out rhymes like drinks for a broken heart
Heartbreak like liquor in an open scar
So bizarre, roll thick like smokers tar
Tell me who can rock parties with no guitar
And if I ain't getting paid then I'm leaving in the promoters car
Tell me who you know this far
Gone, on till the moments...
Gone, on till the break of this governments back
And it's on till my mates are all loving the tracks
No thugs in his raps, no muggings and macks
And no guns, just trying to get us up on the map
Bust, Suffa on wax, trust it's on
I'm trying to do for rhyme what digital cameras did for porn
Born in a small town, die with a big mouth
Hoods tore it all down, shouts to the kids south

[Chorus x4]