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It’s Certified Wise, no need to tell you again, Because these cunts can be so funky that the smell would offend, A dyke’s girlfriend, well then lets get straight to the point shall we? Mr Trials, young ladies give me a call, My number’s written next to fuckwit on the chicks bathroom wall, I’m slightly easy and a trife bit sleazy, With the wit of a red brick and chiselled body of Kim Beazley, My theory is never touch the mic quite serious, And keep girls out on dates later than their next period, My crews got it made rocking the place, With more dope rappers to match every pram chilling at Colonnades.You got to pray to Hip Hop almighty, We bless the microphone nightly, Open up the lyric from inside me, It’s our calling that’s why we say, You got to pray to Hip Hop almighty, We bless the microphone nightly, Open up the lyric from inside me, It’s our calling that’s why we say… Be careful what you wish for; be cautious what you seek, Women are like opportunities; grasp them when they’re in reach, All that glitters is gold, and sold for green locally, Life’s a blind struggle that’s why fate keeps tripping over me, With fines, debts and warrants trust me when I say they serve you, What you don’t know can’t hurt you; so not knowing you is a virtue, It’s a fast food world; I fear that I’m a die gluttoning, But life is like John Howard, too short to waste time worrying, I moved from my parentals, used to lose it in the mental, Now I’m using my potential, for bruising instrumentals, I’m a bad natured human, bound to stagnate in ruin, Till these man made delusions catch a bad case of bruising, We’re all drunk philosophers so give it time now, There’s a fine line between a smile and a frown, Yeah? We leave crews stressfully on a quest to be, Recognised, put up on a level next to me, And the Wise unified allies who bless the beat, We yet to see competitors who can compete, With elaborate schemes they conjured up in their dreams, Have to be out of your mind to even battle this team, Masterminds of the game, nobody does it the same, When we leave the stage we’re sure that you remember the name.

I’ve been an out and out loudmouth since my youth, I’m generous with words but selfish with the truth, I’d never say some things on my mind anyway, Cos ideas are like cars, they get stolen everyday, And when I do speak women call me a creep, Ladies chivalry’s not dead it’s on the couch where you made it sleep, I gets deep without the meaningful, Mimed a rhyme to a blind man, he said ‘Boy now I’ve seen it all’, The worlds an ugly place filled with beautiful women, And people who love music but lack suitable rhythm, What a computer will give ‘em an instrument won’t, It’s called Hip Hop, guess what we’re the industry joke, But Hip Hop followers, follow us till your sorrow is gone, And be strong cos tomorrow it’s on, We ain’t no beat nick, weak trip, kids on the sneak tip, We spit deep shit all of life’ secrets. I’m tearing them in two so don’t you dare me then, Impairing them with them venom, bringing heat like a solarium, You’re staring?

S., To save losing face, no thoughts to the fumes that trace, Our skylines and clogs our seas we swimming in consumer waste, The fumes of hate rise globally but will it cease?

The day we try and find a little peace within the Middle East, We shadow their borders yelling deplete their arms, Its just war for black gold so they can grease their palms, We all need a scapegoat, a villain to cop blame, We’re just wolves in sheep’s clothing killing in gods name, And that’s world wide, like global over population, We mine the world dry of natural resources to feed our nations, Appetite for waste, I see it everywhere, I feel like throwing a flag of protest in Tiananmen Square, We need to care for mother earth and all of her natural defenses, But talk is cheap, and taking action is expensive, We wear our hearts on our sleeves, our flags on our borders, And that’s why nuclear testing’s done in pacific foreign waters, We follow reporters with the worth of a scholar, And gather personal opinions from a rag worth a dollar, Man this is not a subject I feel lightly I can talk on, The attitude is one man of many, so walk on.

This be calling, we could never be fake, Thanks to Hip Hop I got a bed in every state, And without it I’d roam the city with no purpose, Without the underground I’m a clown without circus, I flip verses, you feeling me? Hilltop Hoods and we’re coming up, So step on up if you’re dumb enough, Hilltop Hoods and we’re coming up, So step on up if you’re dumb enough, Hilltop Hoods and we’re coming up, So step on up if you’re dumb enough, Hilltop Hoods and we’re coming up, So step on up if you’re dumb enough. I’m on stage with a handful of Panadol’s handing ‘em out, Cos of the head throbbing from the head nodding, And we about putting you out for the count like mic check, You ain’t gonna get Certified respect, So hide your decks, your mics, I might blackout, In a cipher and I’ll still take the title, The name’s Sesta, I snatch an ‘L’ plate and slap it on your forehead, With more force than porn sex.

Abilities, My currency with which I buy credibility, Facilities were built just to be torn down, Till the wheels fall off, and my pencils all worn down, Till death comes to collect his debt, I’ll wreck the set, When heads check in retrospect, I’ll get respect, Cos I did what I was called to do, It’s Hip Hop, I did it all for you, We true to this, got clout on turntables getting played, We doing this without a label not getting payed, So from the cradle to the grave, microphone to retirement home, I’ll be on stage; I’ll never leave the rhyme alone. I once had time on my hands, but now handling time, Is coping with this life cycle and the mandatory grind, My sanity’s fine, just falling short of stamina I’m, Searching for some food for thought to feed this famine of mind, And when I’m stagnant I rhyme, it helps the night turn to day, I churn my way through this nine to five and urban decay, Believe me it’s bleak, and though the city breathes in its sleep, It’s just a paddock, ain’t no where a shepherds leading these sheep, Now most prefer a covered up lie than the truth naked, The truth is ugly like cellulite; please don’t publicly parade it, I hate it but to escape it would be luck on fluke, I feel like I’m a dope beat but I’m stuck on loop, But that’s my life cycle; freedom means everything to me, And face value’s got us believing everything we see, So if our eyes tell us lies the truth is we’re blind, So keep on walking straight and narrow down illusionary lines. It’s the Hoodhist monks with the Certified MC’s, I make you nod your head like Parkinson’s disease, So stand at ease but don’t step to our clique, I’ve got a hundred metronomes just waiting to go sick, So take your pick, but not the axe or the shovel, After hours I make beds rock like Barney Rubble, It’s kinda subtle, the way that my flow pours, And leave your ears up shit creek without a Funkoar.

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  1. The Holman Bible Dictionary explains further: Among the Greek philosophers, especially the Stoics, logos came to mean the rational principle that gave order to the cosmos. Human reason, in turn, derived from this universal logos. One such word is eros, which corresponds with our word lust.