Hilltop Hoods
For my people in the front
In the nosebleed section
This is for the heads that's loving the mix,
My people in the front all covered in spit,
Batter's in the box, (oww) suffer to pitch (what?),
Hilltop hoods all up in this bitch.
And we the funk [leaders], punks you can't [beat us],
We bump and pump [meters], we drunk you chumps [need us],
So, jump [with us], down in the front [if it's],
(If it's your flavour) Your flavour come get drunk [with us] (woo).
This life turned out nothing like I had planned...
(Why not?)
By now I should've had some [land],
Some money in my [hand], round about fifty grand,
But I got nothing (nothing), I write rhymes on the bus,
I keep suffering (suffering), fuck the lines of the dust,
You keep sniffing, that shit is for the [punk hoes],
This shit is for my bros (woo), my people in the front row.
You know, I looked around, the faces I'd know,
I fell in love with the people in the front row.
You know, I looked around, the faces I'd know,
I fell in love with the people in the front row.
Check it out
I got [hip-hop taste buds],
I wanna hear that [bass when I make love],
I wanna hear some [lyrics when I wake up],
Write rhymes to [get me through a break up]'�¦ Bitch!
Like my whisky straight, [no chaser],
Went through fifty breaks, [no flavour],
Till I found this one, [and made the],
Bass hook with the drum, [my savior],
This is the comeback, tongue that's sharp like a thumbtack,
It's so tight James is saying give my funk back!,
One track, eight track, gave that residual
Noise, man fuck that, we clean with the digital,
Toys I'm the Apache, you're failing to match me,
Throw your hands in the air like you're hailing a taxi,
And move to the funk flow, you stepping? Are you drunk bro?
This is for my peeps and the freaks in the front row.
You know, I looked around, the faces I'd know,
I fell in love with the people in the front row.
You know, I looked around, the faces I'd know,
I fell in love with the people in the front row.
People don't complain if Suffa's in here,
And you're in the front row, all covered in beer,
And club owners don't say the place is wrecked it's your fault (uh uh),
If the roof is on fire it's an electrical fault (woo),
Man I bet you all bolt, when I bring it [live]
Like Friday night footy, in my hoody [I can hide],
I get live on the breaks son, [like pace one],
Lads, if youre heading to the bar grab [your mates one],
Ladies come chill, [come rock with me honey],
I got like half a mill in [monopoly money],
There's no stopping me honey, so you can [take my hand],
We can lay on the beach and count [grains of sand],
Or take a plane to Japan, and drink [saki with mafia],
Fly to Libya for some Bacardi with [Gadafi]
A dinner date, followed by a funk show (oww),
We'll rip off (woo) our tops and jump around in the front row.
You know, I looked around, the faces I'd know,
I fell in love with the people in the front row.
You know, I looked around, the faces I'd know,
I fell in love with the people in the front row.
Put me here, and I'm all yours,
Not for the money and it's not for the applause, no oh no no no
It's for the nosebleed section.
You know, I looked around, the faces I'd know,
I fell in love with the people in the front row.
You know, I looked around, the faces I'd know,
I fell in love with the people in the front row.
Compositores: Barry John Mannie Francis (Debris), Matthew David Lambert, Daniel Howe Smith
ECAD: Obra #5728537