歌曲 | The Blue Blooded |
歌手 | Hilltop Hoods |
专辑 | The Hard Road |
作曲 : Baker, Francis, Lambert ... | |
Introduction – Trials | |
We have a whole lot of superstars on this stage here tonight, | |
And I want you to know one thing, this is… | |
Verse 1 – Suffa | |
Hilltop, that's where the blood runs, | |
Thick, it's where kings bury there loved ones, | |
Sick, kids guard their crop with a slug gun, | |
From rips, move like Schapelle on a drug run, | |
So quick, there's kids in the park waiting, | |
These are my poison diaries like Mark Latham, | |
So start hating, though you know in your heart, | |
We've been owning this art since our flow in the park. | |
Verse 2 – Mortar | |
You can't serve me like Serena and Venus, | |
Comparatively I leave you looking like the machinist, | |
Cats know they've been hit, when I spike the mic level, | |
And draw blood like intravenous, | |
Without a pencil I'm hell bent, | |
Leave dents in the condenser, you can tell when, | |
Mortar's been in the booth to rhyme, | |
I don't scratch vinyl, I scratch up the mic with my canines. | |
Verse 3 – Trials and Sesta | |
Mr Trials, young ladies jump in the sack, | |
I never kiss and tell instead I fuck it and brag, | |
I'm an angry drunk when I'm grabbing a rum, | |
And skull shots till we fall from grace like Eric Clapton's son, | |
South of the country, west of the city, | |
Chip into that kitty if we're going to be drinking until the skank pretty, | |
Will he attack? When he snap, got the track like, | |
Bring it back, hear him rap? Isn't that Funkoars? | |
You can find us staggered in a cipher, | |
Turning human traffic to a five car pile up, | |
We leave them all for dead, | |
I used to think big till it killed L, Pun, Smalls and Kev, | |
Like bad move, got you looking like you're eavesdropping the devil, | |
And T set the theme to send them to hell, | |
Bet on it, you're never better, I tell them again, | |
Seddy bury every adversary he put against. | |
Verse 4 – Hau | |
Fresh off the boat with an impressive approach, | |
To writing rhymes like pressing your throat, | |
The unquestionable dopeness, and oh yes, | |
It's the one and only, in the house like the gun is on me | |
Got you gronks saying blimey he's clever, | |
He's brighter than that sun in the shiniest of weather, | |
Girls you want diamonds forever? | |
Well throw your hymens the sky if you feel the vibe. | |
Verse 5 – Drapht | |
None of gravities properties are on top of me, | |
Can't hold me back from taking a stab like Chopper Read, | |
Can't hold me back, I'm back around again like stalkers, | |
My mic holds a force like a sword or a tomahawk, | |
To Conan, walking with no man now, | |
Cos you freeze when you spit like a snow mans mouth, | |
Arouse with every word, first you've got to know this, | |
We don't belong together like Rove and showbiz. | |
Chorus | |
And we what? – Run with crew, | |
Whose what? – Blood is blue, | |
Through life's – Fucking zoo, | |
And we might – Come for you, | |
And we what? – Run with crew, | |
Whose what? – Blood is blue, | |
Through life's – Fucking zoo, | |
And we might – Come for you. | |
Verse 6 – Vents | |
The saga begin, RPM drama again, | |
My lung burn, dangerous carcinogen, | |
Starving like Stalin in parliament in Prague again, | |
In camouflage targeting, | |
In Rock Creek Park, carve terror in the bark, | |
Blueprint, build pyramids in the dark, | |
The blood run deep, renegade creep, | |
Hilltop connect bro, centigrade heat. | |
Verse 7 – Muphin and Pegz | |
Muph, some give me shit for my name, | |
But I don't give a shit about you shit for brains, | |
Been a long while so I know the game, | |
It's more about music than your clothing range, | |
We're here to overtake, setting the standard, | |
Obese crew, we're the devilish family, | |
Stand on stage accepting a Grammy, | |
For the most incredible rapping since edible panties, | |
Unforgettable pansies in a flickering fit, | |
Knickers in a twist in a spiral of shit, | |
Undeniable gift with decipherable spits, | |
My fireball pit will burn you Muppets, | |
True rugged, blue blooded dignitary, | |
Crews love it when we do something visionary, | |
Move up never lose touch, living ready, | |
This is the hard road cargo hitting heavy. | |
Verse 8 – Robby Balboa | |
Robby Balboa bless the text, | |
Deliver you ticket to death, | |
Rivers of rhythm ripping the flesh, | |
Triple your bets on the primitive pest, | |
Selling sick smut from the cinema steps, | |
It begins with a breath, a kid killing his pets, | |
Just sitting in debt when I'm feeling a wreck, | |
Life's a bitch and so we're wringing her neck, | |
Fuck a metro in a pink shirt cos we're kicking the set. | |
Verse 9 – Honz | |
The Funkoars and the Hilltop, yes, we still rocking it, | |
And I aint going near your bill unless we fucking topping it, | |
I drink till I'm all over the shop like barcodes, | |
And as far as rap goes, I've mastered my flows, | |
Certified and we back again to wreak havoc, | |
With these pads and pens so understand my friend, | |
We about to take over just like Hove spit it, | |
To the most gifted get them glasses up and toast with us. | |
Verse 10 – Pressure | |
Pressure MC, born with a mechanical mind, | |
The talent of rhyme, instinctual like animal kind, | |
Now I flow with the best, from east coast to the west, | |
We live in the flesh like my raps sewn in your chest, | |
You can't fathom the dopest flow, amateurs don't you know, | |
What ever happened to a good old fashioned broken nose? | |
Don't become a casualty of my faculty, | |
Damn I got spine but you'll never see that back of me. | |
Chorus | |
And we what? – Run with crew, | |
Whose what? – Blood is blue, | |
Through life's – Fucking zoo, | |
And we might – Come for you, | |
And we what? – Run with crew, | |
Whose what? – Blood is blue, | |
Through life's – Fucking zoo, | |
And we might – Come for you. |
zuò qǔ : Baker, Francis, Lambert ... | |
Introduction Trials | |
We have a whole lot of superstars on this stage here tonight, | |
And I want you to know one thing, this is | |
Verse 1 Suffa | |
Hilltop, that' s where the blood runs, | |
Thick, it' s where kings bury there loved ones, | |
Sick, kids guard their crop with a slug gun, | |
From rips, move like Schapelle on a drug run, | |
So quick, there' s kids in the park waiting, | |
These are my poison diaries like Mark Latham, | |
So start hating, though you know in your heart, | |
We' ve been owning this art since our flow in the park. | |
Verse 2 Mortar | |
You can' t serve me like Serena and Venus, | |
Comparatively I leave you looking like the machinist, | |
Cats know they' ve been hit, when I spike the mic level, | |
And draw blood like intravenous, | |
Without a pencil I' m hell bent, | |
Leave dents in the condenser, you can tell when, | |
Mortar' s been in the booth to rhyme, | |
I don' t scratch vinyl, I scratch up the mic with my canines. | |
Verse 3 Trials and Sesta | |
Mr Trials, young ladies jump in the sack, | |
I never kiss and tell instead I fuck it and brag, | |
I' m an angry drunk when I' m grabbing a rum, | |
And skull shots till we fall from grace like Eric Clapton' s son, | |
South of the country, west of the city, | |
Chip into that kitty if we' re going to be drinking until the skank pretty, | |
Will he attack? When he snap, got the track like, | |
Bring it back, hear him rap? Isn' t that Funkoars? | |
You can find us staggered in a cipher, | |
Turning human traffic to a five car pile up, | |
We leave them all for dead, | |
I used to think big till it killed L, Pun, Smalls and Kev, | |
Like bad move, got you looking like you' re eavesdropping the devil, | |
And T set the theme to send them to hell, | |
Bet on it, you' re never better, I tell them again, | |
Seddy bury every adversary he put against. | |
Verse 4 Hau | |
Fresh off the boat with an impressive approach, | |
To writing rhymes like pressing your throat, | |
The unquestionable dopeness, and oh yes, | |
It' s the one and only, in the house like the gun is on me | |
Got you gronks saying blimey he' s clever, | |
He' s brighter than that sun in the shiniest of weather, | |
Girls you want diamonds forever? | |
Well throw your hymens the sky if you feel the vibe. | |
Verse 5 Drapht | |
None of gravities properties are on top of me, | |
Can' t hold me back from taking a stab like Chopper Read, | |
Can' t hold me back, I' m back around again like stalkers, | |
My mic holds a force like a sword or a tomahawk, | |
To Conan, walking with no man now, | |
Cos you freeze when you spit like a snow mans mouth, | |
Arouse with every word, first you' ve got to know this, | |
We don' t belong together like Rove and showbiz. | |
Chorus | |
And we what? Run with crew, | |
Whose what? Blood is blue, | |
Through life' s Fucking zoo, | |
And we might Come for you, | |
And we what? Run with crew, | |
Whose what? Blood is blue, | |
Through life' s Fucking zoo, | |
And we might Come for you. | |
Verse 6 Vents | |
The saga begin, RPM drama again, | |
My lung burn, dangerous carcinogen, | |
Starving like Stalin in parliament in Prague again, | |
In camouflage targeting, | |
In Rock Creek Park, carve terror in the bark, | |
Blueprint, build pyramids in the dark, | |
The blood run deep, renegade creep, | |
Hilltop connect bro, centigrade heat. | |
Verse 7 Muphin and Pegz | |
Muph, some give me shit for my name, | |
But I don' t give a shit about you shit for brains, | |
Been a long while so I know the game, | |
It' s more about music than your clothing range, | |
We' re here to overtake, setting the standard, | |
Obese crew, we' re the devilish family, | |
Stand on stage accepting a Grammy, | |
For the most incredible rapping since edible panties, | |
Unforgettable pansies in a flickering fit, | |
Knickers in a twist in a spiral of shit, | |
Undeniable gift with decipherable spits, | |
My fireball pit will burn you Muppets, | |
True rugged, blue blooded dignitary, | |
Crews love it when we do something visionary, | |
Move up never lose touch, living ready, | |
This is the hard road cargo hitting heavy. | |
Verse 8 Robby Balboa | |
Robby Balboa bless the text, | |
Deliver you ticket to death, | |
Rivers of rhythm ripping the flesh, | |
Triple your bets on the primitive pest, | |
Selling sick smut from the cinema steps, | |
It begins with a breath, a kid killing his pets, | |
Just sitting in debt when I' m feeling a wreck, | |
Life' s a bitch and so we' re wringing her neck, | |
Fuck a metro in a pink shirt cos we' re kicking the set. | |
Verse 9 Honz | |
The Funkoars and the Hilltop, yes, we still rocking it, | |
And I aint going near your bill unless we fucking topping it, | |
I drink till I' m all over the shop like barcodes, | |
And as far as rap goes, I' ve mastered my flows, | |
Certified and we back again to wreak havoc, | |
With these pads and pens so understand my friend, | |
We about to take over just like Hove spit it, | |
To the most gifted get them glasses up and toast with us. | |
Verse 10 Pressure | |
Pressure MC, born with a mechanical mind, | |
The talent of rhyme, instinctual like animal kind, | |
Now I flow with the best, from east coast to the west, | |
We live in the flesh like my raps sewn in your chest, | |
You can' t fathom the dopest flow, amateurs don' t you know, | |
What ever happened to a good old fashioned broken nose? | |
Don' t become a casualty of my faculty, | |
Damn I got spine but you' ll never see that back of me. | |
Chorus | |
And we what? Run with crew, | |
Whose what? Blood is blue, | |
Through life' s Fucking zoo, | |
And we might Come for you, | |
And we what? Run with crew, | |
Whose what? Blood is blue, | |
Through life' s Fucking zoo, | |
And we might Come for you. |