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 ain't an urge it's for life,
what I recite furthers the fight,
A ser vice 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 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 ain't 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 pic
ture 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 Of ficial 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,
Verse 2: Suffa Girl for
one night, we'll get drunk right,
And we'll get tongue tied,
till we puke together, (vomits)
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 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,
Ain't 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 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
Hilltop Hoods 
