[Intro]
"State-of-the-art music"
"State-of-the-art" "[?]" "From the golden era"
"State-of-the-art music"
"State-of-the-art"
"5000 booming watts
Sound system, state of the art" "[?]"
"Blow the horns on ‘em, not now but right now"

[Verse 1: Suffa & Pressure]
Duck and cover
'Cause when you fuck with Suffa it’s like the bombs dropped
You spit like Bon Jovi, we spit like Bon Scott
We got it on lock: deadlock, non-stop
Head-nod even when the song stop
Step in the cypher and its danger
I'll set the Pressure on you like a hyperbaric chamber
And he don’t fuck around, we gained such renown
For this state-of-the-art custom sound
For them custom built rappers with underskilled narratives
The good die young, me and Suff' are still bad with this
Rhyme style, it’s lethal, prime time the sequel
Ain't got a single fan, just like-minded people
I told you from the start, I’m a soldier of the art
Effortless, take every breath and hold it to your heart
With Debris and my brother Suffa, so watch another sucker
Run for cover, it's the return of the motherfuckin' motherfuckers
[Chorus: Suffa, GZA, Suffa & GZA, Lil' Fame]
I don't give a goddamn, listen, I don't know
How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid
I don't give a goddamn on the shows you did
How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid
I don't give a goddamn on the shows you did (Listen, I don't know)
How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid
Mr. Debris, blow the horns on 'em, not now but right now

[Verse 2: Suffa, Pressure, Pressure & Suffa]
Obsessive-compulsive, repulsive, insultin'
Offensive like feedin' a vegan some dolphin
Assaultin' the system, a system that’s broken
The cistern is broken, the shit is just floatin'
I spit till your open underground
P-Dela-Ressure and he don’t fuck around
Now album number five, worked hard to earn that
No doubt it was a fight, too far to turn back, I
Step in the sun, take the weather however it comes
Although I’m a second son, I'm second to none, lesson is done
What goes around comes around, Suffa’s down
And he don’t fuck around
The Hood spits the news like Wolf Blitzer, crews
Fear the pit bull in the pulpit, yo, it’s the
World War Three in a whisper – the Mr Suffa
And Mr Pressure, we spits it fresher (We rips it rougher)
[Chorus (Condensed): Suffa, GZA, Suffa & GZA]
I don't give a goddamn, listen, I don't know
How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid
I don't give a goddamn on the shows you did
How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid

[Interlude]
"[?] the boys we got punters coming through the windows
They're coming through the ceiling [?] coming
From the floorboards, man. Bring those boys down here
I want them on stage right now!"

[Verse 3: Pressure & Suffa]
Your nemesis on verses, the desperate and worthless
Try flame the name, we can wrestle in a furnace
Never came half-hearted, never came last started
Every day like it’s my last till my craft’s mastered
And we can get it on, I’m at peace with myself
'Cause there’s a piece of myself in every song
I don’t just write rhymes, I spent a lifetime buildin'
A lifeline accommodatin' night times children
Now they love the sound, play me with a gravyspitter
And he don’t fuck around, cheah
Ain’t no steppin' to me
'Cause P and Suffa bad mother's like Treacherous Three, so
(Feel the heartbeat, feel the heartbeat)
You feel your heart's weak 'cause still you can’t beat
The Hills and aren’t we just still too rugged?
I can feel you love it, we the real blue blooded, c'mon!
[Chorus: Suffa, GZA, Suffa & GZA, Lil' Fame]
I don't give a goddamn on the shows you did (Listen, I don't know)
How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid
I don't give a goddamn on the shows you did
How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid
I don't give a goddamn on the shows you did (Listen, I don't know)
How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid
Mr. Debris, blow the horns on 'em, not now but right now