Laying the Blame

[Verse One - Suffa]<br>I gave birth to half these styles, you should pay me rhyme support<br>Like Billy Jean suing Michael Jackson for child support<br>Rhyme is thought, what is it? Lethal, Damn you`ll get hurt<br>Cos I XL like the tag on my shirt<br>I`ll have these rappers easing back, rhyme with a swagger<br>Feed your girl aphrodisiacs and hide your viagra<br>If pain was diabetes, rhyme would be my insulin<br>I`m taking out the insolent in an instant when<br>They bring the rhyme I`ll battle if you wanna tussle<br>A single line can turn that fatty matter into muscle<br>You stagnate, while my rhymes circulate like rumours<br>Your living proof that god has a sense of humour<br>I`m butter made from the cream that came from the crop<br>I`ll move the mountain to Mohammed scream my name from the top<br>And proclaim what I got, boy, so give me headroom<br>These clubs are full of more toys than spoilt kids bedrooms<br>When I`m on stage I might lose my breath<br>Cos I got so much heart that there`s no room in my chest<br>Left for lungs, yes the bests yet<br>To come, my rhymes like a hand around your neck<br>Constricting your breathing like snakebites and beestings<br>I`m all up in these arseholes faces like G-Strings<br>I searched the world for opposition but I fear the<br>Only competition I found was in a mirror<br><br>[Verse Two - Pressure]<br>When Pressure steps to the batters plate you salivate, known to captivate<br>I have to break new barriers like when a chaste nun masturbates<br>If one more critic asks me what I do, I`ll slap them mate<br>And tell them I`m a rapper as I strap her up in gaffer tape<br>Loudmouths make me wanna flip<br>MCs only dream they got a grip, and wake up with their hand on their dick<br>Honest, if they ride the nuts I tell the get off me<br>Cos I`m unstable like a cradle bridge, so don`t cross me<br>I`m highly explosive you`re a child playing with matches<br>I break rappers you give hairline fractures<br>These actors keep it real? You`re really wak it`s fact<br>You spit one-liners while I spit the finest chapters<br>Perhaps it`s time to retire the mic<br>Like the Bulls should have done son, cos no-one wants to be like<br>That anymore, cos nowadays you`re taken on a fantasy tour<br>Of coke, guns and gold when they`re actually poor<br>Factually flawed, yet entertaining<br>I guess it how far we`re willing to go to satisfy a craving<br>Make them swallow their tongues like epileptics<br>Then I`ll respect it, I come clean as if my lube was antiseptic<br>So blow me, you still couldn`t rhyme fresh<br>I`m on a higher level of divineness, so call me your highness<br>There`s only three things that are certain in life<br>Death, taxes and Hilltop Hoods working the mic