Hilltop Hoods - Conversations From A Speakeasy Restrung lyrics

rate me

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 clichŽ is a friend of me, I'm out y'all

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

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?

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