歌曲 | Obese Lowlifes |
歌手 | Hilltop Hoods |
专辑 | The Hard Road |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Christie, Defarmo, Francis ... | |
Verse 1 – Mystro | |
Well I'm the one to bring the funk although my armpit's not stinking, | |
And I'm known to hold flows like the glass you drop drinking, | |
Never crude man I started of limping, | |
Plus I rock a fella like I know the art of parking lot pimping yeah, | |
You people know of Mys, the one whose flow's crazy, | |
And is so gravy that it should come with a bowl of rice, | |
The MBS with the Hilltop Hoods, | |
Make B-Boys and Girls break quicker than real soft wood, let's go. | |
Verse 2 – Pressure | |
I never hit on a girl, at least with no hand, | |
Girls are like serving time but time waits on no man, | |
Got nothing on women so I spread love on the rhythm, | |
And get you out your seat quicker than corrupt politicians, | |
And I'm on the brink, man it makes me stop and think, | |
I don't drink till I drop cos I think I might drop my drink, | |
Think you're more, than us? We believe in war, | |
Trust me your nothing I aint seen before. | |
Verse 3 – Braintax | |
With one pen too high to overextend, | |
In dreamland with freedom starting again, | |
With foresight thrive on the magic of life, | |
And five fingers plus a mic make sick ****t, Braintax, | |
**** Tony Blair like I hate George Bush, | |
Another seven day week, you ready for the push? | |
Through the eight million stories that you can't write down, | |
Start again from the top, come on people bounce. | |
Verse 4 – Suffa | |
Man all these pollies in power are cowards so it's only fair, | |
That I hate John Howard like I hate Tony Blair, | |
And I croon like Tony Bennet in a rental tux, | |
Experimental cuts, with the Brando Flux and Mys Diggy, | |
No one's as fly as these kings, | |
I'll leave you beside yourself like Siamese twins, | |
We're so deep, so nice, so full of promise, | |
But obese, lowlifes man what woman would want us? | |
We're like some hooded up bombers out storming the yard, | |
We're going large like a junkie out pawning his car, | |
This is the core of the art, and it's all from the heart, | |
This music put your life together when it's falling apart |
zuo qu : Christie, Defarmo, Francis ... | |
Verse 1 Mystro | |
Well I' m the one to bring the funk although my armpit' s not stinking, | |
And I' m known to hold flows like the glass you drop drinking, | |
Never crude man I started of limping, | |
Plus I rock a fella like I know the art of parking lot pimping yeah, | |
You people know of Mys, the one whose flow' s crazy, | |
And is so gravy that it should come with a bowl of rice, | |
The MBS with the Hilltop Hoods, | |
Make BBoys and Girls break quicker than real soft wood, let' s go. | |
Verse 2 Pressure | |
I never hit on a girl, at least with no hand, | |
Girls are like serving time but time waits on no man, | |
Got nothing on women so I spread love on the rhythm, | |
And get you out your seat quicker than corrupt politicians, | |
And I' m on the brink, man it makes me stop and think, | |
I don' t drink till I drop cos I think I might drop my drink, | |
Think you' re more, than us? We believe in war, | |
Trust me your nothing I aint seen before. | |
Verse 3 Braintax | |
With one pen too high to overextend, | |
In dreamland with freedom starting again, | |
With foresight thrive on the magic of life, | |
And five fingers plus a mic make sick t, Braintax, | |
Tony Blair like I hate George Bush, | |
Another seven day week, you ready for the push? | |
Through the eight million stories that you can' t write down, | |
Start again from the top, come on people bounce. | |
Verse 4 Suffa | |
Man all these pollies in power are cowards so it' s only fair, | |
That I hate John Howard like I hate Tony Blair, | |
And I croon like Tony Bennet in a rental tux, | |
Experimental cuts, with the Brando Flux and Mys Diggy, | |
No one' s as fly as these kings, | |
I' ll leave you beside yourself like Siamese twins, | |
We' re so deep, so nice, so full of promise, | |
But obese, lowlifes man what woman would want us? | |
We' re like some hooded up bombers out storming the yard, | |
We' re going large like a junkie out pawning his car, | |
This is the core of the art, and it' s all from the heart, | |
This music put your life together when it' s falling apart |
zuò qǔ : Christie, Defarmo, Francis ... | |
Verse 1 Mystro | |
Well I' m the one to bring the funk although my armpit' s not stinking, | |
And I' m known to hold flows like the glass you drop drinking, | |
Never crude man I started of limping, | |
Plus I rock a fella like I know the art of parking lot pimping yeah, | |
You people know of Mys, the one whose flow' s crazy, | |
And is so gravy that it should come with a bowl of rice, | |
The MBS with the Hilltop Hoods, | |
Make BBoys and Girls break quicker than real soft wood, let' s go. | |
Verse 2 Pressure | |
I never hit on a girl, at least with no hand, | |
Girls are like serving time but time waits on no man, | |
Got nothing on women so I spread love on the rhythm, | |
And get you out your seat quicker than corrupt politicians, | |
And I' m on the brink, man it makes me stop and think, | |
I don' t drink till I drop cos I think I might drop my drink, | |
Think you' re more, than us? We believe in war, | |
Trust me your nothing I aint seen before. | |
Verse 3 Braintax | |
With one pen too high to overextend, | |
In dreamland with freedom starting again, | |
With foresight thrive on the magic of life, | |
And five fingers plus a mic make sick t, Braintax, | |
Tony Blair like I hate George Bush, | |
Another seven day week, you ready for the push? | |
Through the eight million stories that you can' t write down, | |
Start again from the top, come on people bounce. | |
Verse 4 Suffa | |
Man all these pollies in power are cowards so it' s only fair, | |
That I hate John Howard like I hate Tony Blair, | |
And I croon like Tony Bennet in a rental tux, | |
Experimental cuts, with the Brando Flux and Mys Diggy, | |
No one' s as fly as these kings, | |
I' ll leave you beside yourself like Siamese twins, | |
We' re so deep, so nice, so full of promise, | |
But obese, lowlifes man what woman would want us? | |
We' re like some hooded up bombers out storming the yard, | |
We' re going large like a junkie out pawning his car, | |
This is the core of the art, and it' s all from the heart, | |
This music put your life together when it' s falling apart |