| Song | Hillatoppa |
| Artist | Hilltop Hoods |
| Album | State Of The Art |
| VERSE 1: PRESSURE | |
| My words ring true, so until the end of the marriage, | |
| Cutting my neck from my back is the only severance package, | |
| For this veteran that is blessed and possessed with the language, | |
| In a profession that takes less than a second for Pressure to vanish, | |
| I scream vocals clear in the hope your hearing your host, | |
| Less we choke in fear of the smoke and mirrors, | |
| This scene is on fire, feeding my bleeding desire, | |
| So when P’s behind the wheel indeed you’ll need to retire cause I’m a, | |
| Hillatoppa, breath no less than seventy proof, | |
| Yeah we connect with youth, when my left is caressing your tooth, | |
| Invested in confessing the truth, the proof my sweat in the booth, | |
| Hang around this ending with your neck in a noose, | |
| So move back, call truce retract, | |
| We’re too fat to fall through the cracks, | |
| And I’ve never had quitting in mind, sick of my rhyme? | |
| Slit your wrist and consider this the finishing line | |
| VERSE 2: SUFFA | |
| You better swallow your pride like lions eating their young, | |
| Cos I’m a beast with a beat, two lungs and a drum, | |
| And now that Mr Superflow’s back on his feet, | |
| I’m going stupid bro so you can go back to your seat, | |
| I’m a Hillatoppa filled with vodka and vinegar, | |
| Mocking you miniatures, more props than Bollywood cinema, | |
| Last call, me and P will be drunk all summer, | |
| Jim Carey, Jeff Daniels, call us drunk and dumber, | |
| People are starving and they’re putting Lamborghini doors, | |
| On a ****ing Hummer? Give some to the funky drummer, | |
| And I’ll ride this beat like a drunken lover with no ****ing rubber, | |
| And I ****ing love her, | |
| Girl don’t leave me, | |
| I need you and see that you don’t need me, | |
| But if you leave me alone, | |
| You’ll break my heart, I’ll fall apart and lose my seat on the throne, | |
| Like an opera, | |
| A tragedy like an opera |
| VERSE 1: PRESSURE | |
| My words ring true, so until the end of the marriage, | |
| Cutting my neck from my back is the only severance package, | |
| For this veteran that is blessed and possessed with the language, | |
| In a profession that takes less than a second for Pressure to vanish, | |
| I scream vocals clear in the hope your hearing your host, | |
| Less we choke in fear of the smoke and mirrors, | |
| This scene is on fire, feeding my bleeding desire, | |
| So when P' s behind the wheel indeed you' ll need to retire cause I' m a, | |
| Hillatoppa, breath no less than seventy proof, | |
| Yeah we connect with youth, when my left is caressing your tooth, | |
| Invested in confessing the truth, the proof my sweat in the booth, | |
| Hang around this ending with your neck in a noose, | |
| So move back, call truce retract, | |
| We' re too fat to fall through the cracks, | |
| And I' ve never had quitting in mind, sick of my rhyme? | |
| Slit your wrist and consider this the finishing line | |
| VERSE 2: SUFFA | |
| You better swallow your pride like lions eating their young, | |
| Cos I' m a beast with a beat, two lungs and a drum, | |
| And now that Mr Superflow' s back on his feet, | |
| I' m going stupid bro so you can go back to your seat, | |
| I' m a Hillatoppa filled with vodka and vinegar, | |
| Mocking you miniatures, more props than Bollywood cinema, | |
| Last call, me and P will be drunk all summer, | |
| Jim Carey, Jeff Daniels, call us drunk and dumber, | |
| People are starving and they' re putting Lamborghini doors, | |
| On a ing Hummer? Give some to the funky drummer, | |
| And I' ll ride this beat like a drunken lover with no ing rubber, | |
| And I ing love her, | |
| Girl don' t leave me, | |
| I need you and see that you don' t need me, | |
| But if you leave me alone, | |
| You' ll break my heart, I' ll fall apart and lose my seat on the throne, | |
| Like an opera, | |
| A tragedy like an opera |