[Intro: Suffa, Pressure]
Wassup? You miss us?
Mr Debris, say hi
"Hello, hello, hello—hello, hello, hello"
We are, of course, representin'
Mighty, mighty Hilltop
I'm Mr Suffa, first up to bat
We got P-Dela-Ressure (I been earnin' my stripes)

[Verse 1: Pressure]
Till I'm perfect when I'm workin' the mic
And I been servin' the type of words that murder insights
This ain't an urge, it's for life; what I recite furthers the fight
A service for the circus that occurs in the night
So put your money where your mouth is; we're doing it now
Golden Era's let loose on the prowl, loosen the noose of your doubts
We're here to take back what used to be ours
So make your last words count like grooms choosin' their vows
It's more than just timing (Why?), the sport of slaughter with rhyming
Of course, if I'm writing my name upon your corpse, it's a signing
There's hoards of them vibing, smiling at the thought of us dying
The water that's rising ain't the shore; it's more of your crying
Jealous 'cause we strivin' and inspired by truths, they know
Nothing 'bout surviving with the times and the news, and whole
Image is a lie, and didn't like that my crew's
Got our own sneaker, feel free to walk a mile in my shoes
Hip-hop's in hard times, if it's said that time is money
Then I'll be payin' dues until I hit the red
Is it dead, or is it just the picture which you're fed?
Write rhymes witcha heart and do your business witcha head
If you ever bought Pressure a beer, let it be clear
It was a blessin', but I'm stressin' I'll be dead in a year
Forgettin' my fears for the blood, sweat and the tears
F' a career, I'll be left with the respect of my peers
[Chorus: Suffa & Pressure]
What we're doing here is
Crazy, "In case you haven’t heard—
My ways are—un-unstoppable", super official
With the style, "yeah—
Step into my zone and get blown"; what we're doing here is
Crazy, if you ain't up on this
Then you ain't up on shit, super official
With the style, if you ain't up on this

[Verse 2: Suffa, Pressure]
Girl, for one night, we'll get drunk, right?
And we'll get tongue tied till we puke together
[?], n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n—
Oh! Bitch!
Big Lebowski, that rug tied the room together
"[?]" "Fuck you, I'm not cleaning that up!"
Howl at the moon together like Ozzy Osbourne on tour
In Rio with Ronny James Dio on the encore (Come on)
They want a Funkoar, they wanna hold a mirror
To ninety-four, they want a golden era
They wanna golden shower, so I'ma give 'em Sid Vicious
Spit vicious (You can't cut me off like circumcision) (No!)
It's just how I'm livin', so adjust how you listen
To the music, the new shit can’t be touched; now I'm driven
Ain't the same old, lame old, take it in the a-hole
Payola, payroll, dude, shut your cakehole (Shut it up!)
This is soul like watching some day old
Paint on a train roll by as the rain fall
And it's so beautiful, it's painful, a sweet sickness
Like picturin' the rest of your life with a girl you've known
For three minutes and proposin' in a day and a half
What we're composin' here's state of the art (Yep!)
Weighs heavy on your brow like a crown of thorns, and that's
When we break it down, man, sound the horns, now reborn
Work hard, eat lunch in the car
But, man, we play hard, Braveheart drunk in a bar (Cheah, cheah, cheah, cheah)
We're here, so take heart, we're making music that's honest, [?]
The movement's upon us like some rebels moving through in the forest
Carrying a torch to burn Babylon
For every musician, a label ever put a saddle on
[Chorus: Suffa & Pressure]
What we're doing here is
Crazy, "In case you haven’t heard—
My ways are—un-unstoppable", super official
With the style, "yeah—
Step into my zone and get blown"; what we're doing here is
Crazy, if you ain't up on this
Then you ain't up on shit; super official
With the style, if you ain't up on this

[Break: Pressure]
Golden Era!

[Outro: Suffa & Pressure]
What we're doing here is crazy
Super official with the style
What we're doing here is crazy
If you ain't up on this then
You ain't up on shit
Super official with the style
If you ain't up on this then
You ain't up on shit