STATE OF THE ART LYRICS

THE RETURN

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis, Gilbert Bridges, Edward Guzman, Peter Hoorelbeke, Raymond Monette, Mark Olson) Produced and Mixed by Suffa for Suffering City Productions. Contains excerpts from the composition “Come With Your Lady” written by Gilbert Bridges, Edward Guzman, Peter Hoorelbeke, Raymond Monette, Mark Olson and published by  Jobete Music Co. Inc. (ASCAP) used be permission. All rights reserved. This track contains a sample of the recording “Come With Your Lady” as performed by Rare Earth. Courtesy of Motown Records under license from Universal Music Enterprises. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

VERSE 1: SUFFA & PRESSURE

Duck and cover, cos 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 cipher and it’s danger,
I’ll set the Pressure on you like a hyperbaric chamber,
And he don’t fuck around, we’ve gained such renown,
For this state of the art custom sound,
For them custom built rappers with under skilled narratives,
The good die young, me and Suff are still bad with this,
Rhyme style it’s lethal, prime time the sequel,
Aint got a single fan just like minded people,
I told you from the start, I’m a soldier of the art,
Effortless, take every breathe 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 motherfucking motherfuckers

VERSE 2: SUFFA & PRESSURE

Obsessive compulsive, repulsive, insulting,
Offensive like feeding a vegan some dolphin,
Assaulting the system, a system that’s broken,
The cistern is broken, the shit is just floating,
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 rips it rougher/we spits it fresher

VERSE 3: PRESSURE & SUFFA

Your nemesis on verses, the desperate and worthless,
Try and flame the name we can wrestle in a furnace,
Never came half-hearted, never came last started,
Everyday 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 life time building,
A life line accommodating night times children,
And now they love the sound, play me with a,
Gravyspitter and he don’t fuck around,
Ain’t no stepping to me,
Cos P and Suffa bad mutha’s like Treacherous Three,
So feel the heartbeat, feel the heartbeat,
You feel your hearts weak cos 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

SUPER OFFICIAL

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis) Produced by Suffa for Suffering City Productions and Debris for Take Away Productions. Mixed by Suffa for Suffering City Productions. Additional keyboards by John Bartlett. John Bartlett appears courtesy of Illusive SoundS. Additional keyboards Recorded at The Suffering City.

VERSE 1: PRESSURE

I’ve been earning my stripes, till I’m perfect when I’m working the mic,
And I’ve been serving the type of words that murder insights,
This aint 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,
Cause 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 choosing their vows,
It’s more than just timing, 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 aint the shore it’s more of your crying,
Jealous cause we striving 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 crews,
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’ve been paying dues until I hit the red,
Is it dead, or is it just the picture which your fed?
Write rhymes with your heart and do your business with your head,
If you ever bought Pressure a beer, let it be clear,
It was a blessing but I’m stressing I’ll be dead in a year,
Forgetting my fears for the blood, sweat and tears,
F a career, I’ll be left with the respect of my peers

CHORUS

What we’re doing here is crazy,
Super Official with the style,
What we’re doing here is crazy,
If you aint up on this, then you aint up on shit,
Super Official with the style,
If you aint up on this, then you aint up on shit

VERSE 2: SUFFA

Girl for one night, we’ll get drunk right,
And we’ll get tongue tied, till we puke together,
Bitch, Big Lebowski, that rug tied the room together,
Howl at the moon together like Ozzy Osbourne on tour,
In Rio with Ronny James Dio on the encore,
They want a Funkoar, they wanna hold a mirror,
To ninety-four, they want a golden era,
They wanna golden shower so I’m a give ‘em,
Sid Vicious, spit vicious, you can’t cut me off like circumcision,
That’s just how I’m living so adjust how you listen,
To the music, the new shit can’t be touched now I’m driven,
Aint the same old, lame old take it in the a-hole,
Payola, payroll, dude shut your cakehole,
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 picturing the rest of your life with a girl you’ve known,
For three minutes, and proposing in a day and a half,
What we’re composing here’s state of the art,
It 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 we play hard, Braveheart drunk in a bar,
We’re here so take heart, we’re making music that’s honest,
The movements 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

What we’re doing here is crazy,
Super Official with the style,
What we’re doing here is crazy,
If you aint up on this, then you aint up on shit,
Super Official with the style,
If you aint up on this, then you aint up on shit

CHASE THAT FEELING

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis, William C Brown III, Dale Ossman Warren and John G. Williams) Produced and mixed by Suffa for Suffering City Productions. Contains samples from ‘Pass The Word (Love’s The Word)’, written by William C Brown III, Dale Ossman Warren and John G. Williams and published by Irving Music, Inc. (BMI). Used by Permission. All rights reserved. “Chase That Feeling” Contains samples from “Pass The Word (Love’s The Word)” Performed by The Mad Lads From the album “Don’t Have To Shop Around” Courtesy of Stax Records/Concord Music Group, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Additional string arrangements written by Jamie Messenger. Additional string arrangements performed by the Bacchanalia String Quartet. Additional keyboards by John Bartlett. John Bartlett appears courtesy of Illusive Sounds. Additional Vocals by Joseph Braithwaite. Joseph Braithwaite appears courtesy of Illusive Sounds. Additional strings recorded by Mick Wordley at Mixmaster Studios. Additional organ recorded at The Suffering City.

VERSE 1: PRESSURE

She’s young, lithe and homely, wise by no means,
Known one guy she’s for his eyes and only,
He’s a lying phony, leaves crying, lonely,
Separates the pain by staying high and though she,
Might just O.D. high price to go free,
This aint living, listen it’s dying slowly,
It’s got a hold on me, she can chase that feeling,
It’s got a hold on me, don’t chase that feeling

VERSE 2: PRESSURE

Sometimes I feel we strive for a life of apathy,
Callous deeds, other mindless acts of greed,
Aint jack for free, I think they’d try a tax to breathe,
It’s like we fight to remind us that we bleed,
I take flight in the night from lack of sleep,
Cause peace of minds the only time that we’re free,
It’s got a hold on me, and I’m a chase that feeling,
It’s got a hold on me, we all chase that feeling

VERSE 3: SUFFA

It’s like they try to build you up to watch it all collapse,
You try climb out the pit, they’ll try claw you back,
Like back in the factory packing the shelves,
It was hell cos the foreman was always harassing me,
Like ‘How’s your little old music thing going?’
Now I’m like ‘How’s your bitter old loser shit going?’
And I’m right, it’s got a hold on me, and I’m a chase that feeling,
It’s got a hold on me, I’m a chase that feeling like

CHORUS

And I’m a chase that feeling,
Take that pain and replace that feeling,
And I’m a take that healing then,
Stand so tall they’ll have to raise that ceiling man

VERSE 4: PRESSURE

From a young age I was making my mark, chasing my start,
Forever aint enough when your state of the art,
Fuck the haters that had said I’d never make it this far,
It’s the pavers that I’d tread to dedicate to my craft,
I’ve tailored every thread to bear the shape of my heart,
Treating every breath as my first and day as my last,
It’s got a hold on me, I still chase that feeling,
It’s got a hold on me, yeah I still chase that feeling

VERSE 5: SUFFA

I ride the rails of a vinyl track,
Fall into a trance and there aint no climbing back,
Sit and lose myself in all the hidden loops,
They’re like forbidden fruits, I’m like can I get a bite of that?
Gin and juice, I get loose and I write a track,
Shivers down my spine, feeling more like a spinal tap,It’s got a hold on me, and I’m a chase that feeling,
It’s got a hold on me, I’m a chase that feeling like

CHORUS

And I’m a chase that feeling,
Take that pain and replace that feeling,
And I’m a take that healing then,
Stand so tall they’ll have to raise that ceiling man

VERSE 6

At start of the summer,
I’m a come to life and have the heart of a hummingbird,
And I can hear the drummer,
She’s so ugly but I’m so in love with her,
Wake up, roll out of bed, throw on some roll-on,
Roll up to the studio,
It’s got a hold on me, and I’m a chase that feeling,
Chase that feeling

SHE’S SO UGLY

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis) Produced by Christian Huber and used under license from Pokerbeats. Mixed by Suffa for Suffering City Productions. Additional Guitar Performed by Nick Lambert. Additional Guitar Recorded at The Suffering City.

VERSE 1

Hillatoppa, hilla, hilla, hillatoppa,
Finish off a fifth of vodka, light it up and spit it on ya,
Man me and P-Dela got a hella proper,
Flow, see what I’m saying like a teleprompter?
And you could never stop us, fucking posers,
Appetite for destruction like Guns N’ Roses,
We come like Moses, down from the Hilltop a,
Pain killer, pill popper, brain killer, slurring like,
Haim still a threat when we fill up a field,
Like an open air opera, sample a snare off a,
Vinyl they wanna take a piece like a sharecropper,
Stifle creativity, and its not fair fuckers,
Before you try this just know that you’d have better luck,
Trying to stare off a man with no eyelids,
This is a rare offer so take advantage,
A carnival of carnage climbing out your garbage,
Man we’re off the hook like a carcass,
These bastards try and sell shares off an artist,
Fuck your share offer, cos we’re off the map,
And we can’t be bought with any fair offer,
Mattafact fuck unfair offers, can’t be bought,
What the pair offer can’t be taught,
I used to love her, then they kidnapped her,
Dragged her through the streets and they shaved her fucking hair off her

CHORUS

And she’s so ugly,
The music’s asking why he don’t love me,
You’ve been used by too many guys,
And now I can’t look you in the eye,
But when I met her, I was like she’s so lovely,
And she said ‘I’d let him cut me’, but now it’s like,
You’ve been used by too many guys,
And now I can’t look you in the eye,
Wish I never met her

VERSE 2: PRESSURE

This aint life in the fast lane,
This is hard rain, soaking and knowing you missed the last train,
This aint a date for the day,
It’s made that it stays timeless, they’ll never take that away,
This aint glamour and shine, cameras, dimes,
It’s me handling mine in hazardous times,
This aint love and romance it’s hate, gluttons and antics,
Paint brushing the canvas, aint nothing attractive,
So fuck a make-over, cant take the weight like a pay loader,
Then we throw ya to the flame thrower,
This aint silver lined clouds,
It’s real and right now for the crowd to put a meal in my mouth,
This aint a beautiful temptress, nor a youthful apprentice,
In the cubical doing usual stretches,
It’s ugly and ravished, hungry and damaged,
But she’s mine and the only thing that loves me that matters

CHORUS

And she’s so ugly,
The music’s asking why he don’t love me,
You’ve been used by too many guys,
And now I can’t look you in the eye,
But when I met her, I was like she’s so lovely,
And she said ‘I’d let him cut me’, but now it’s like,
You’ve been used by too many guys,
And now I can’t look you in the eye,
Wish I never met her

STILL STANDING

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis, Henry Lawes) Produced and Mixed by Suffa for Suffering City Productions. Contains excerpts from “Your Teeth in My Neck” written by Henry Lawes published by Greensleeves Music Ltd. (BMI) courtesy of Greensleeves Records. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Additional string arrangements written by Jamie Messenger. Additional string arrangements performed by The Bacchanalia String Quartet. Additional string arrangements recorded at Mixmaster Studios by Mick Wordley.

VERSE 1: PRESSURE

Standing in line, fifteen couldn’t wait,
Couldn’t fathom any talent in rhyme,
Had to get mine, granted in mind,
Was my rapping that I thought would never happen in time,
Odds stacked to reject us, attacking the hecklers,
Reckless with rap till they had to respect us,
Laid tracks, never asked for jack for my efforts,
Cause everything we do comes back to affect us,
And as long as I got lungs I’m a say this,
Long as we get love we got some that will hate us,
We’ll never change it’s done for the faithless,
I don’t care for favourites on somebody’s play list,
Aint enough paper for the names I gotta mention,
Without them, no way I would of made it a profession,
I wouldn’t trade it for a day of my obsession,
We’re staying dedicated to perfection

CHORUS 1

It’s been so long, we’re glad we came,
Before we gathered fame or had a name,
Our story hasn’t changed with accolades,
We’re still standing and we’ll be back again

VERSE 2: SUFFA

I’m still standing, fuck it, one of us had to,
Though I’m not standing still like a statue,
Man, I can tighten loops like a lasso,
You see my blood runs blue like a cut up a tattoo,
It’s ironic, some say it’s even confusing,
That I’m still standing cos I’m keeping it moving,
And I’m still champion we keep on improving,
And I’m Main Source man, I’m breaking and moving atoms,
What we spit is absurd,
Since a kid, I’ve always loved the rhythm of words,
The beauty of language, and spewing the anguish,
All over the canvas like the riff was a curb,
Now if you live by the word then you die the pen,
The critics can criticise but we’re the crème dele crème,
Me and P-Dela we blend what they’re calling the standard,
Still standing while they’re screaming when will it end?

CHORUS 1

It’s been so long, we’re glad we came,
Before we gathered fame or had a name,
Our story hasn’t changed with accolades,
We’re still standing and we’ll be back again

CHORUS 2

How long you been here? I’ve been here for years,
How long you been here? I’ve been here for years,
How long you been here? I’ve been here for years,
How long you been here? I’ve been here for years,
We still sharp, still craft Hip Hop that they played in the park,
Still jamming, still paving the path,
Still making our mark, still aint for the faint of the heart,
Still standing, still state of the art,
We still sharp, still craft Hip Hop that they played in the park,
Still jamming, still paving the path,
Still making our mark, still aint for the faint of the heart,
Still standing, still state of the art

CLASSIC EXAMPLE FEAT. PHAROAHE MONCH

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis/T. Jamerson/M. Potsic) Produced by DJ Nu-Mark and used under license from DJ Nu-Mark. All rights reserved. Mixed by Suffa for Suffering City Productions. Guest Artist Pharoahe Monch appears courtesy of W.A.R.

VERSE 1: PHARAOHE MONCH

Now we bring the new danger to stranger’s who claim to defame the crew,
Pharoahe, Hilltop Hoods, never singing the blues,
Slinging these new singles for you to mingle to,
Australian Hip Hop but not kangaroos,
Change the game a little rearrange the rules,
Your whole frame is brittle man you came to lose,
We drop classics you bastards,
My final four defeats sweet sixteen’s like March madness,
It’s not passive, so ravenous,
This collaborative effort is not average,
Its magnanimous, thus, my little crew got loose screws,
These dudes will put two in your cabbage,
One in your laminate, three in you managers Phantom,
Don’t be a candidate for animal planet,
Lyrical savages and CD anger management classes,
Look how we handle them we leave them in bandages damn it

VERSE 2: SUFFA

No stopping us now, Hilltop in this, we locking it down,
Apocalypse now, we’re not with this monotonous sound,
It’s innocuous Hip Hop and we’re on top of a cloud,
Rocking a crowd, dropping this like who not with us now?
They’re all feeling the movements it’s,
Got DJ’s scratching up my shit like removalists,
Who is this ludicrous, furious, humorous,
Dude that just threw us off the back of tour bus?
Two of us, bringing the shit that got your hands clapping,
Luminous, swinging my dick like Dr Manhattan,
I had to stop for breath,
Cos our shit’s like Joan of Arc, man it’s hot to death,
We blowing up the spot, not once but twice like P-Monche,
Blowing up some Reebok pumps with a beatbox,
Come to life, or try get this drunk out of here,
Pffft, my shit’s a classic man, get the fuck out of here

VERSE 3: PRESSURE

This aint a so-so, promo, believe me it’s pro,
Dope flow that don’t know the meaning of no,
Me and my co, Pharoahe, won’t be leaving the show,
Until the, speakers blow from the heat of my flow,
We write classics, for back alley theatrics,
Playing with fire living in a house built with match sticks,
Haters wana roll with me now, showing love?
Guess I’m just too busy holding it down to hold a grudge,
Your average amateurs panic and choke,
They aint actually dope, they’re high on cannabis smoke,
I’m still the man if I don’t blow a grand on a rope,
Cause fortune favors the brave that’s why these rappers are broke,
Props to Numark for jacking the sample,
Debris could lay a scratch with his arms full,
Keeping heads packed like a car pool,
Back for the masses to marvel, here’s another classic example

CHRIS FARLEY

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis) Produced and Mixed by Suffa for Suffering City Productions.

CHORUS

I wanna party like Bon Scott on Charlie, Bob Marley non-stop,
Chris Farley pissed, party on like the bombs dropped,
So if you’re drunk on Friday night you know what’s what,
And if you’re blaaagh you know what’s what,
I wanna party like Bon Scott on Charlie, Bob Marley non-stop,
Chris Farley pissed, party on like the bombs dropped,
So if you’re just too fucking blind you know what’s what,
And if you’re bluuugh you know what’s what

VERSE 1: PRESSURE

I wanna go out like Biggie and Pac,
No gun fire, I’m talking rum and dry, hit me with shots,
Tequila and scotch, I’ll wind up on the idiot box,
At six o’ clock with a grand tucked into my socks,
My obituary notice will say that most of my days,
Were spent inside a bottle and a toast will be raised,
Until conspiracy theories say they know I’m ok,
I’ll drop seven more albums by my ghost from the grave

VERSE 2: SUFFA

I wanna die in Memphis like Elvis,
Senseless on the toilet pissing on my own pelvis,
Helpless, choking on vodka and shellfish,
Get found by my girl like god you’re so selfish,
Well-wishers at my wake saying he’ll be well missed,
But wait till they’re well pissed, they’ll wish me to hell with,
Everybody that I wanted to party with anyway,
Don’t care if it’s a hundred and ninety degrees centigrade

CHORUS

I wanna party like Bon Scott on Charlie, Bob Marley non-stop,
Chris Farley pissed, party on like the bombs dropped,
So if you’re drunk on Friday night you know what’s what,
And if you’re blaaagh you know what’s what,
I wanna party like Bon Scott on Charlie, Bob Marley non-stop,
Chris Farley pissed, party on like the bombs dropped,
So if you’re just too fucking blind you know what’s what,
And if you’re bluuugh you know what’s what

VERSE 3: PRESSURE

Like Jim Morrison, I wanna party till my heart stop,
Tripping in a bath with a stripper and a glass of,
Liquor in my grasp, man I figure that my last of,
Days should be crazed I’m a live it till I’m passed on,
If any grief is shed, leave it said,
I’d remind them of just how far the dream has led,
So when it’s time for me, be finally relieved I’m dead,
I want to exit how I entered – between some legs

VERSE 4: SUFFA

I wanna bender like Hendrix,
Blend six liquors with ten drinks,
Ten-four buddy, well it’s like ten-six, when it’s,
Ten sixteen in the morning, my girl will send,
Sixteen messages to me warning,
We’ll be ex’s if I don’t exit, so exit,
The next shit’s getting called a sexist at breakfast so let’s get,
Our phones and all set ‘em to flight mode,
And let the horns fly through the hook and take us right home

CHORUS

I wanna party like Bon Scott on Charlie, Bob Marley non-stop,
Chris Farley pissed, party on like the bombs dropped,
So if you’re drunk on Friday night you know what’s what,
And if you’re blaaagh you know what’s what,
I wanna party like Bon Scott on Charlie, Bob Marley non-stop,
Chris Farley pissed, party on like the bombs dropped,
So if you’re just too fucking blind you know what’s what,
And if you’re bluuugh you know what’s what,
I wanna party like Bon Scott on Charlie, Bob Marley non-stop,
Chris Farley pissed, party on like the bombs dropped,
So if you’re drunk on Friday night you know what’s what,
And if you’re blaaagh you know what’s what,
I wanna party like Bon Scott on Charlie, Bob Marley non-stop,
Chris Farley pissed, party on like the bombs dropped,
So if you’re just too fucking blind you know what’s what,
And if you’re bluuugh you know what’s what

THE LIGHT YOU BURNED FEAT. TRIALS

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis/D. Rankine) Produced and Mixed by Suffa for Suffering City Productions. Contains samples from the composition “Hot Line Conversation” written by Ernie Joseph Orosco, Cory Orosco and Brian Faith and published by Lynnes Fairchild Music (ASCAP). Used by permission. All rights reserved. This track contains a sample of the recording “Hot Line Conversation” as performed by Giant Crab. Courtesy of Geffen Records under license from Universal Music Enterprises. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Additional bass by Scott Duncan. Scott Duncan appears courtesy of Illusive Sounds. Additional Bass Recorded at Take Away Studios.

CHORUS

I thought we had,
Such a good thing going,
Now the light you burned,
Is dying out so slowly

VERSE 1: PRESSURE

For starters, aint heartless I don’t hate them,
But I was starving and parted our relations,
I never live in the past like the forsaken,
I was ill, you were never the master of your patience,
We were martyrs for this mayhem,
Now you’re passing your ass out to artists as replacements,
I know it’s harder to father than to make friends,
But you see I’m proud regardless where my day ends,
It was a task to ask you just to pay rent,
And you laughed cause my heart was in the basement,
Never targeted the market just to make ends,
Wasn’t all scars there were parts of it that made sense,
Walking away were the hardest conversations,
Hope you learned if you’re smart you shouldn’t date friends,
And I still don’t understand you,
So I gotta say fuck you, thank you

CHORUS

I thought we had,
Man I thought that we had,
Such a good thing going,
But we don’t, but we don’t, but we don‘t,
Now the light you burned,
Now the light that you burned,
Is dying out so slowly,
And we go, and we go, and we go

VERSE 2: TRIALS

Must be hard trying to keep the facade,
Here we are, you nothing, me needing a laugh,
Went from driving to not even a seat in the car,
Still lying now to kissing every cheek of my ass,
From family tree, to just another leaf in the park,
Hope those bright ideas help you see in the dark,
It’s like first, you say something, second, you blame others,
Third burn the bridge like the first Rage cover,

But they don’t know and they never will what we’ve been through,
It’s not you, it’s me, nah it’s you,
I got a lot of love for things you did,
If it only added up to all the things you missed,
Guess that’s it, heard that you were running with him,
Saw you settled down now and had a couple of kids,
Shit the world keeps spinning like a bottle top,
See the light you burned started something that I aint gonna stop

CHORUS

I thought we had,
Man I thought that we had,
Such a good thing going,
But we don’t, but we don’t, but we don‘t,
Now the light you burned,
Now the light that you burned,
Is dying out so slowly,
And we go, and we go, and we go

VERSE 3: SUFFA

What a soulful old anthem,
You used to burn brighter now you couldn’t hold a lighter to a lantern,
Went from fighter to a phantom,
Invited inside of my life but you a bantam,
Weight, with some heavyweight issues,
Had to separate with you, get you heavy grade tissues,
For all your mood swings, so not amusing,
You could blow the rock out a mood ring,
You can blow the rocks and the tubing,
You can go super hoe the block for a shoestring,
Budget for all I care and this is what I got,
For all my caring? So fuck it,
Nah I aint sleeping on the couch, you can sleep on the carpet,
I’m a take the bed and sleep like a starfish,
Hog all the blankets, and sleep off the lagers,
And wake up in the morning like we feeling marvelous

CHORUS

I thought we had,
Man I thought that we had,
Such a good thing going,
But we don’t, but we don’t, but we don‘t,
Now the light you burned,
Now the light that you burned,
Is dying out so slowly,
And we go, and we go, and we go,
I thought we had,
Man I thought that we had,
Such a good thing going,
But we don’t, but we don’t, but we don‘t,
Now the light you burned,
Now the light that you burned,
Is dying out so slowly,
And we go, and we go, and we go

PARADE OF THE DEAD

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis) Produced and Mixed by Suffa for Suffering City Productions.

VERSE 1: PRESSURE

Quarter to midnight, a sea of slaughter I’m in flight,
Red running water getting caught in the rip tide,
Cars out of order man I thought I could hitch hike,
Sporting a chainsaw for I’m avoiding a fist fight,
The evacuation went ahead,
But bullet fire caressed my head I was left for dead,
Awoke in hell and knowing well the feds had fled,
Before the sun set in red,

The witching hour that approaches has a host of,
Seven plagues, packs of locusts, rats and roaches,
Fat and bloated corpses lacking focus,
Trapped in the throws of attacking that that’s closest,
Legs aching from the pace that I’m running at,
Death chasing aint safe till the sun is back,
Escaping the cityscape like a lumberjack,
My own wakes the only way that I’m coming back,
The outer limits, found a house in thickets,
Heard a shout as a shot rang out to witness,
The foulest dead disemboweled and gizzards,
Their rival in his final hour or minutes,
Numb with fear, holding gun to ear,
He said ‘Run, it’s clear till the sun appears,

Tell my son his dear loving mum is near,
See you in hell man I’m done with here’

CHORUS

They built my city on top of a grave,
Now the dead roam the street like a rotting parade,
They poured gasoline on top of a lake,And then they set it on fire so nobody escaped,
They built my city on top of a grave,
Now the dead roam the street like a rotting parade,
Quarantined and forgotten for days,
These are the stories of those who have gotten away

VERSE 2: SUFFA

I thought I might,
Drown in sweat when I heard the sound FX,
Of fingernails running down my fence,
Was it rioters, rats or malcontents?
I pulled my blinds back a crack like Malcolm X,
The scene was sirens, violence, car alarms,
My neighbour waving from his yard with half an arm,
Vietnam in the suburbs, the walking dead,
Burning down the house like Talking Heads,
A city on fire not a city of god,
A city that hides from a hideous mob,
The zombie flicks, man I’ve seen ‘em a lot,
Enough to know when it’s time to get the fuck out of dodge,
Only packed the necessities,
Toothbrush, porno, souped-up weaponry,
And just for the fun of it, I stole my neighbours Hummer,
Put spikes out the side and tied a chainsaw to the front of it,
I cut up heads and shoulders, knees and toes,
Knees and toes, knees and toes,
I cut up heads and shoulders, knees and toes,
Knees and toes, knees and toes

CHORUS

They built my city on top of a grave,
Now the dead roam the street like a rotting parade,
They poured gasoline on top of a lake,
And then they set it on fire so nobody escaped,
They built my city on top of a grave,
Now the dead roam the street like a rotting parade,
Quarantined and forgotten for days,
These are the stories of those who have gotten away

LAST CONFESSION

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis) Produced and Mixed by Suffa for Suffering City Productions. Additional String Arrangements Written by Jamie Messenger. Additional String Arrangements Performed by The Bacchanalia String Quartet. Additional String Arrangements Recorded at Mixmaster Studios by Mick Wordley.

VERSE 1: PRESSURE

This will be my last confession,
This industry can leave harsh impressions,
I have little faith forgive me for my past discretions,
But we live and learn that history and past are lessons,
The day this is work the love of it dies,
A handful make it, the others will strive,
And hunger can drive hatred but such is just life,
I guess jealousy’s the curse that the struggle inspires,
These critics seek to break and divide,
I know I’m bitter but my faith is divine,
Take it in stride yeah I act like I hate it at times,
But I found love through this music and a place to reside,
For every friend I have an eager opponent,
For every cent I spent on meager components,
I gave something back so I don’t feel the need for atonement,
Cause we all get our hands dirty when we’re seizing the moment,
We always took the lead peers would follow,
And paid for everything that we cleared or borrowed,
If my son can benefit from what you see here my sorrows,
Justified, just that I might not be here tomorrow,

CHORUS

When it rains it pours, when you’re soaked and the world,
Tries to fuck with ya, trust in ya own and yourself,
My biggest fears to die not knowing you well,
And I aint afraid to die I’m afraid of going to hell

VERSE 2: PRESSURE

This will be my last confession,
Liberty can leave harsh impressions,
I have little faith forgive me for my past discretions,
But we live and learn that history and past are lessons,
I’ve always played the hand I was given,
No exceptions here humanity’s driven,
You see all men are born equal, just the standard of living,
That differs between the Jewish, Adriatic and Christian,
I’m a logical man given to science,
Forgive me I know religion inspires,
But too many have government and political ties,
And use state of the art war fare to bridge their divides,
There’s hate crime wars on day time talks,
And rape trials walk in state wide courts,
We don’t pray no more we only break thy laws,
So what this world don’t give us we going to take by force,
Assertion, aggressions, murder then vengeance,
We treat peace like it’s a term of acceptance,
Exception we’re not accepting if we’re searching for penance,
So these words are for my son so he can learn from my lessons,

CHORUS

So when it rains it pours, when you’re soaked and the world,
Tries to fuck with ya, trust in ya own and yourself,
My biggest fears to die not knowing you well,
And I aint afraid to die I’m afraid of going to hell

HILLATOPPA

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis) Produced and Mixed by Suffa for Suffering City Productions.

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 fucking Hummer? Give some to the funky drummer,
And I’ll ride this beat like a drunken lover with no fucking rubber,
And I fucking 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

FIFTY IN FIVE

(M. Lambert/D. Smith/B. Francis, Don Cochrane and John Hill) Produced and Mixed by Suffa for Suffering City Productions. Contains excerpts from the composition “2010” written by Don Cochrane and John Hill and published by EMI Blackwood Music, Inc. (BMI). Used by permission. All rights reserved. This track contains a sample of the recording “2010” as performed by Tinkerbell’s Fairydust. Courtesy of Decca Music Group Ltd. under license from Universal Music Enterprises. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Additional String Arrangements Written by John Bartlett. John Bartlett appears courtesy of Illusive Sounds. Additional String Arrangements Performed by The Bacchanalia String Quartet. Additional String Arrangements Recorded at Mixmaster Studios by Mick Wordley. Additional Keyboards by John Bartlett. John Bartlett appears courtesy of Illusive Sounds. Additional Piano Recorded at Take Away Studios. Additional Guitar Performed by Nick Lambert. Additional Guitar Recorded at The Suffering City.

VERSE 1: SUFFA

Terror cleared the skyline and anger clouded judgement,
So they spent a thousand nighttimes in the desert fighting something,
That they couldn’t find, that made it something that they couldn’t fight,
Left us lamenting all the wrongs that they couldn’t right,
This is for the second time, we’ve been here before,
From Vietnam to Saddam, we always needing a war,
Neo-conservatives rose up like Viet Cong,
Their fingers on the trigger we won’t be here long,
They killed MLK and they named a day after him,
They killed JFK and named an airport after him,
Some guy shot a monster called Reagan so he could bone,
A girl named Jodie Foster, if only he’d known,
We tested nukes in the atmosphere, the sea and the dirt,
And they tested all these missiles just to see if they worked,
Now France got ‘em, Russia got ‘em, India and Pakistan,
Korea want ‘em, States want ‘em pointed at the Taliban,
Iran and Afghanistan, sands of the Arab lands,
Orders from portable commands in armored caravans,
Internet, 3g cellular phones,
Serial killers built mini-cells in their homes,
And we had Manson, Bundy, Gacy, Son of Sam,
Macarena, superman, chicken dance, running man,
Generation X and Generation Y,
And the generation next will degenerate and die,
Cos we got holes in the Ozone that we put there ourselves,
Now the poles are a no-go, earths cooking itself,
And we can’t look at ourselves so we got saline, botox,
Eighteen, fake tits, nineteen detox,
Don’t stop, get it, get it, can’t afford it get it credit,
Buy it, spend it, try it, getting fat? Then you better shed it,
Ab-Swing, Blue Blocker, Tupac or Biggy,
East coast, west coast, Fat Joe or Fifty,
Thatcher the shifty iron lady, Tony Blair,
A princess died, some say cos she got Dodi there,
Whitlam, Keating, Hawke and a promise,
Of no children in poverty, wish that could have been honest,
We had Abbot and Costello, right wing overlords,
Promises and children, they threw ‘em both overboard,

Overwrought refugees thrown to a group home,
Or jailed for the crime of looking for a new home,
Elvis died, Hendrix died, Lennon died, genocide,
In Africa, Serbia, Cambodia, pesticides,
Bio-toxins, chemical warfare,
All’s fair in love and war, more work for the pallbearer,
More terror, more unjust search and seizures,
A tidal wave came and claimed the coast of Indonesia,
Quakes in Iran, Japan and California,
Greenhouse gas turned the world into a sauna,
The trauma of mortars, martyrs, slaughters,
Of partners, mourners, fathers and daughters,
They chased us, caught us, numbered us to sort us,
Raped us, scorned us, to break us they bought us,
Third world kidneys for captains of industry,
Uprising in the street, corruption in the ministry,
A blowjob brought about the fall of a dynasty,
And MP3’s saw the fall of an industry,
Doubled population, halved accommodation,
Carved up resources and we starved the poorer nations,
Beirut, Chechnya, all hell,
Broke loose, Berlin, nineteen eighty nine man, the wall fell,
Cold war ended but that didn’t stop more shells,
Waco lit up the sky like burning oil wells,
A world laid waste with addiction,
Tell Orwell truth’s always stranger than fiction,
Big Brother’s on closed circuit TV and on cable,
Reality’s now scripted, celebrity’s for sale,
Jeopardy and jail, seized, deposed,
Remedies and penalties for failed CEO’s.

We had the Enron collapse, and white-collar crime,
Investors they were taxed, a dollar for a dime,
The blue chip companies and blue-sky mines,
We no longer choose sides we choose sidelines,
Rich bleeding the kind, blind leading the blind,
And history repeats, no competing with time,
Gasses eating the minds of the vets that they bring home,
The plague of Agent Orange, Gulf War Syndrome,
Soldiers sent home, posttraumatic stress leave,
STD’s cos the sleeve aint sexy,
AIDS shook the eighties, grim reaper with a bowling ball,
Metallica, kill ‘em, let god scold ‘em all,
The Guildford Four, Chicago Seven,
Mumia, Mandela, Oceans Eleven,
Half past twelve on Friday the Thirteenth,
Dawn of the Dead a Nightmare On Elm Street,
Weapons free environment, war zone, phone home,
Melanoma grow as we soak in the ozone,
Home-grown, Hydro, Cocaine, Nitro,
Werewolf in London, American Psycho,
Cyclones, bushfires, Bush firing Scuds,
Baby boomers, Woodstock, what happened to the love?
What happened to the cubs? They fed ‘em to the wolves,
Set a trial for pedophiles, they let ‘em in the schools,
Set ‘em on the students, turned ‘em on the kids,
And everyone responsible should burn for what they did,
And if they try to deny then an eye for an eye,
The government and church on which we try to rely,
Both rob us till it hurts chasing lie after lie,
Like astronauts chasing a pie in the sky,
They landed on the moon but can’t seem to return there,
Makes some question if they ever really were there,
And if they were there now and they looked back,
Could we look them in the eye, could we look back?

Cos when we look back at what we have done,
Can you believe what we have become?
As we walk into the sun,
Can you believe what we have become?
As we walk into the sun