Double Dutch lyrics

[Verse 1: Sesta]
Nowadays everybody f*cking with Ses'
The only reason 'cause he prob'ly the best, well, nah, I'm f*cking witcha
He ain't sh*t and he ain't rich
The heathen in black that's keen on a drink and you better give it to him
Security saying, "Leave with your mess"
It's funny the sh*t you do when you're needing to p*ss ("p*ss off, alright?")
I need to leave in a hurry
"I like the track you do about the ladies suck in they tummies (Haow)
Rhymes ain't sh*t, dig the chorus
Now which Oar is you? Step in the pit for us"
Course, I will (Course, you will!) With a grin (With a grin!)
But the questions, they do me in
Feeling p*ss poor in the morning
Until the p*ss pouring again, come on, say it
Feeling p*ss poor in the morning
Until the p*ss pouring again, yeah!

[Verse 2: Pressure]
I came in the door, must'a been later than four
That's what you get when you're mates with the Oars
Spent the day in remorse, nature taking its course
And what this world don't gimme, I'ma take it by force
And it's fair to say if I'd never made a cent for
My record play wouldn't feel like every day's a bender
Always said it straight, never set a fake agenda
Not clever, mate, f*ckin' with a heavyweight contender (Suckers)
Ain't no use in holdin' the grudges
Be my hype man so I can say I roll with the punches
The only thing that comes free is what you've stolen from others
The air you breathe? Ain't nothing you can hold in your clutches
Till I'm old and on crutches, I'll still kill a mic
If hip-hop's dead then 2Pac's still alive
Pressure's ill, who's gonna inherit the skill?
You don't get it, now you never will, you never were
[Scratches: DJ Reflux]
"Boom, boom, bap, boom, bam"
"Boom, boom, bap, boom, bam"
"Think about it while you're messing up, clown"
"Boom, boom, bap, boom, bam"
"He had no idea" "DJ Reflux"
"[?] nice with his hands"

[Verse 3: Trials]
Yeah, I'm tryna get enough bank to never break fifties
And have big things in front of me, like fake titties
But, [?], you guessed it
Every single cent that I got spent it instead of investing, ha!
'Nough said so, check
We measure success counting the fans that wanna suck Sest
And budget? f*ck it
We never clean like [?] a fiend taking a drug test
Smart sex that I pedal on front brakes
Like Lance Armstrong, but his nuts ain't
And that's below the belt, get it?
I said, "His nuts ain't", and that's 'below the belt', check it
I wanna travel the world, jet to The Netherlands
Run amok, meet some girls bag a Double Dutch
Ha! Who else do it like this
And rap his arse off? Imagine what I'd do with my di*k
[Verse 4: Suffa, Trails]
T
You want a Double Dutch? Well, I wanna blow it up (Dude, you know it sucks)
Nobody sharing, we all going Dutch
We the friends that wanna fill the dinner plates ([?])
Eva Mendes, wanna feel the dinner plates
A dinner date with Suff, dumb as dogsh*t
About as much fun as a lift from Matthew Broderick
(Oh sh*t) Toxic, convention-type good looks
Hoods put it down like Hons p*ssing on the good book (Whoops, oh)
Too many cooks with 16s, not enough fans
So big schemes sound like big scams (Ho!)
Big hands! Know what that means—big slap
Big plans! Know what that means—pig sack
(Dig that!) Gift-wrapped and served by a girl
With such a big rack you'd think that they stuffed her bra
By bringing B.I.G. back, so get back, the kid's back
Staring at you recycling like, "Yo, you gonna drink that?"
(Cheah, cheah, cheah, come on)

[Scratches: DJ Debris]
"Boom, boom, bap, boom, bam"
"Think about it while you're messing up, clown"
"Boom, boom, bap—bap—bap
Bap—bap—bap
Boom—boom—boom—boom—boom—boom—
Boom, boom, bap, boom, bam"
"He had no idea" "DJ Debris"
"[?] nice with his hands"
[Verse 5: Hons]
Man, I used to be a Centrelink king
Until I got caught, sh*t, now I'm pawning my things
Quit the moral talk, man, it's killing my binge
I only got one life to rip my liver to bits
The villainous kid from the south of the city
Brought up right but Hackam turned my mouth kinda gritty, I'm
Hard to swallow like a gobstopper
sh*t, I'm a rap star, man, I don't need to be a c*ckblocker
The p*ssed idiot, still a gambling man
But I wouldn't dump my cash in a sh*t syndicate
Stone-cold sleaze Hons, and I just finished
Twenty-five shows and still got a clean johnson
I'm on par with T for a girl in every state
New goal to be like Magic, minus the AIDS
Pouring Jäger down my throat till I'm flat on my arse
At the bar, with the friend screaming, "Sha-na-na"

[Verse 6: Vents]
I'm the fish in the
Proverbial pond, I never wanna get along
With the hammerheads and I ain't happy till my habit fed
f*ck all in the cabinets
Little bit of rice, cigarettes, and the mice keep having sex
Holes in the walls of my brain
Sowing the seeds of discontent, but still praying for rain
[?] my girl put out
Said the pill make her fat, so I pull out
Just in time, paranoid and restless
Unemployed, we praying for death by asbestos
Life sucks and ya die
One more of these and it's prob'ly goodbye, but I'm enjoying the ride
And we saying goodnight, [?]
To the [?] sl*t see the big bright light, all right
It's the rise of the tyrant, both guns firing
f*cking you raw while I'm smiling, what up?