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Artist: Hilltop Hoods
Album:  The Hard Road
Song:   Monsters Ball
Typed by: sensative_new_age_guy@hotmail.com

[Verse 1]
(Suffa)
You sound like a bitch man
Nymphos in your clip and disco riffs man
I'll tell you this, OK, it don't fit man
It's like OJ, little glove, big hand
Step to this I'll take your miss, make her twist and
Moan, like I fucked with the pitch man
This land where the bricks stand
On red sands, I spit grams of powdered Difflam
To ease your muscle pain, do the hustle
Came to tussle against the corporate gain man
Parcels move train to plane in the struggle
Markers give a claim to fame in the jungle
Street revolutionaries, we the evolutionary
Anomalies, but stupidly they try stopping me
That's only making me a martyr we
Like opiates in the vein, attack the arteries
Don't get smart with me; I got a heart in me
Like Pharlap, and gone so far raps now a part of me
I got camaraderie, the great unwashed
I got a heart in me that pump's straight up scotch
But crews still try to diss me, till I switch it on em
Like they try to diss Fats, till they see a picture of him
Big boys, aint small man, they tall and
Ugly, want to cut me come join and join the monsters ball man

[Verse 2]
(Pressure)
These are the last of days, a vast array
Of fake fucks up in a masquerade
It's swim or drown, we act we don't sink
Its primal instinct we rap we don't think
Its do or die, no turning back like suicide
Till you're doing time with these cut throats in a suit and tie
So don't feed the animals, or act a fool
Your just one man, a young lamb amongst a pack of wolves
So while you're fighting over scraps and loose change and moot claims
Pressures higher up in the food chain
And small time predators rove in packs
That why big time executives throw them scraps
So much static that this is such a hazardous business
And having to witness that half these rappers are bitches
Got me laughing hysterically, I've the heart of a pedigree
So pissing on the next man is just marking my territory
Rivals will claim over head strong beef
And try, fighting for fame on these slept on streets
While I'm, signing my name in the wet concrete
Touching both sides of your brain when I flex on beats
And when we sound the drums, I'll see cowards hung
When my hour comes I'd rather catch a beat down than run
It's just that honest, I don't rap for these monsters
Id rather face the music than turn my back on you