The Return

[Produced and Mixed by Suffa] [Turntablism: DJ Debris] [Verse 1: Suffa & Pressure] Duck and cover cause when you fuck with Suffa it’s like the bombs dropped You spit like Bon Jovi, we spit like Bon Scott We got it on lock, deadlock, non-stop, head-nod Even when the song stop Step in the cypher and it’s danger I'll set the Pressure on you like a hyperbaric chamber And he don’t fuck around, we’ve gained such renown For this state of the art custom sound For them custom built rappers with underskilled narratives The good die young, me and Suff are still bad with this Rhyme style it’s lethal, prime time the sequel Ain't got a single fan just like-minded people I told you from the start, I’m a soldier of the art Effortless, take every breathe and hold it to your heart With Debris and my brother Suffa, so watch another sucker run for cover It's the return of the motherfucking motherfuckers [Hook 1] I don't give a goddamn, listen, I don't know (How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid) I don't give a goddamn (on the shows you did How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid) I don't give a goddamn, listen, I don't know (How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid) Mr. Debris (blow the horns on 'em, not now but right now) [Verse 2: Suffa & Pressure] Obsessive compulsive, repulsive, insulting Offensive like feeding a vegan some dolphin Assaulting the system, a system that’s broken The cistern is broken, the shit is just floating I spit till your open underground P-Dela-Ressure and he don’t fuck around Now album number five, worked hard to earn that No doubt it was a fight, too far to turn back I step in the sun, take the weather however it comes Although I’m a second son, I'm second to none Lesson is done, what goes around comes around Suffa’s down, and he don’t fuck around The Hood spits the news like Wolf Blitzer, crews Fear the pit bull in the pulpit, yo it’s the World War Three in a whisper – the Mr Suffa And Mr Pressure, we rips it rougher/we spits it fresher [Hook 2] I don't give a goddamn, listen, I don't know (How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid) I don't give a goddamn (on the shows you did How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid) [Skit] [Verse 3: Pressure & Suffa] Your nemesis on verses, the desperate and worthless Try and flame the name we can wrestle in a furnace Never came half-hearted, never came last started Everyday like it’s my last till my craft’s mastered And we can get it on I’m at peace with myself cause there’s a piece of myself in every song I don’t just write rhymes, I spent a life time building A life line accommodating night times children And now they love the sound, play me with a Gravyspitter and he don’t fuck around Check, ain’t no stepping to me Cause P and Suffa bad mutha’s like Treacherous Three So (feel the heartbeat, feel the heartbeat) You feel your hearts weak cause still you can’t beat The Hills and aren’t we just still too rugged? I can feel you love it, we the real blue blooded, c'mon! [Hook 1] I don't give a goddamn, listen, I don't know (How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid) I don't give a goddamn (on the shows you did How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid) I don't give a goddamn, listen, I don't know (How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid) Mr. Debris (blow the horns on 'em, not now but right now)