The Sylla Squad

[Verse 1: Drapht]
Check
As soon as I've animated the track, contaminated the listener
Mr. D-Rapht the man that painted the picture
Spit your cryptic codes to split the roads and
Quick to throw a hit, if you stick your nose in
Like dicks, I'm chosen to unload and bring life
Into a world that's turning into hell by night
Sell your light to the darkness like Oprah's backside
But sticking it to 'em harder than Ron Jeremy's jap's eye
Capsize your vessel, you're wrestling with the great white
Rock a sharper set than Danoz Direct steak knives
Take life for granted and you're branded for slaughter
Take flight but landed in hot water, I'm borderline
But brought up with nothing but tough enough to never be
Caught up in anything that's gonna be falling short of
My vision of how I'm gonna be living my life
Better make the right decision, is never given it twice

[Verse 2: Mortar]
You can't flex or even step to this kid
But I seize ya like an epileptic fit
Cat's caught amnesia, forgetting that Mortar stepping
On stage is like Nicholas cage brandishing the weapon
We could face off or I could rip your face off
And spit shards of steel while your bitch kneels and tastes cock
Make of it what you want, I take what I will
Drop lyrics like acid, here's a jagged little pill
That's hard to swallow, tough act too
Drown out your whole crew like The Day After Tomorrow
Ice age flows, I change weather patterns
Re-arrange the structure of the earth's crust, shatter atoms
Smack you back to the dark ages with one verse
Snap your head back like a car crash with one word
Shit verbally, you whack try-hards
And Richard Gere's gerbil, I mean your act died in the arse

[Turntablism: Carlsani]
"We got rhymes, three-sixty-five days annual plus some"
"Exquisite, exotic, exciting type shit"
"We got rhymes, three-sixty-five days annual plus some"
"Step to this shit [?]"
"We got rhymes, three-sixty-five days annual plus some"
"For all those who wanna profile and pose"
"We got rhymes, three-sixty-five days annual plus some"
"Bring it to 'em raw"

[Verse 3: Glandestein]
Unleash my anger in the form of a scripture
Paint a picture with words and emerge the victor
In a gladiator forum, picture which
You rip to bits before you tabulate the warning
I'll force-feed you humble pie and wash it down
With a cool glass of sour grape juice
You wanna rumble? Try. It seems I've
Developed an appetite to devour fake crews
Make no excuses or question how we work
Clandestine drops and you react like a knee-jerk
I get it cracking like Guy Fawkes right
Step to the mic and watch the stage lights blacken
Witnessing only swift flashes of chrome
And glare of eyes, verses to make
The hair on the back of your neck rise and stand up
At attention, now mention 'Destien new banter

[Verse 4: Tomahawk]
Prey, and hell followed with him
Who'd you expect, Robbie Williams?
Nah cunt, let me entertain you
Guarantee nothing but a totally insane view
Back with the main crew who hate you
The last Syllabolik says who, now say you
Make me ill, I take a sniff of a chopped proton pill
And go for some overkill, when I puke nukes
Spewing if you realise the power of local shit
Till you're blowing it out or proportion like a bloated bitch
TV views, hate them more than before
All you act like you're zombies and board your doors
Brains, brains, did I say it's insane?
Jump on the bandwagon like Michael Jackson
To make a change and Heal The World
Sue him for a fraction. He's a child
Molester. Fuck you, TV boy
Fuck it, it's the end of my lecture, get out

[Turntablism: Carlsani]
"We got rhymes, three-sixty-five days annual plus some"
"Exquisite, exotic, exciting type shit"
"We got rhymes, three-sixty-five days annual plus some"
"Step to this shit [?]"
"We got rhymes, three-sixty-five days annual plus some"
"For all those who wanna profile and pose"
"We got rhymes, three-sixty-five days annual plus some"
"Bring it to 'em raw"

[Verse 5: MJ]
Yeah, yeah
You step back as I enter the track and the spot's so
Exact, it's as if I'm attached, locked and latched
Words be the perfect match, ain't just hatched
You'll unscratch and I got the type of flow to leave you satched
To catch a glimpse of my blueprints and get the hints
Came through the door in ninety-four, been repping ever since
Who got the nerve to even step to this here crew?
You sweat when we're near you and left with severe bruise
Appear through transparent fake MC
Verbal jabs with the head will make 'em weak at the knees and then they'll
Buckle like a can in the fire, you're still stuck at the
Knuckle better plan to retire, we on a standard that's higher
Take you to another level on stairways
Potent shit we're tokin' bound to clog up your airways
Fair to say we ain't the type to fuck around
When it's time to get down you know who'll bring the real sound

[Verse 6: Hunter]
Synchronise, burn turns truth to lies
The crow flies straight in the Syllabolik skies
I'm a big Hislop to Aussie hip-hop beats
Get battered like shark flesh at the fish and chip shop
The rip-off, we serve your type here
Not with beer but a burning and a swift kick to the rear
Show no fear, show no mercy at shows
Since the rhymes of the nursery I've been ripping the dope flows
Hope grows, but it soon dies off
'Cause like a pie in the microwave, you're too fucking soft
I stand aloft and me dropping my burden
Is something you'll never see like Ian Paisley in a turban
I'm wording crews up, herding yous up
And yous get chewed up like a pokie does to your two bucks
Some crews jump and any rapper talking shit
Will drown in the rivers of the words I spit

[Turntablism: Carlsani]
"We got rhymes, three-sixty-five days annual plus some"
"Exquisite, exotic, exciting type shit"
"We got rhymes, three-sixty-five days annual plus some"
"Step to this shit [?]"
"We got rhymes, three-sixty-five days annual plus some"
"For all those who wanna profile and pose"
"We got rhymes, three-sixty-five days annual plus some"
"Bring it to 'em raw"