Verse One – Pressure
For many years I was seeking asylum, in the bleakest environments,
Rhyme possessed me, while many started speaking retirement,
So as I rose they all fell in the fashion of yelling and trashing,
For what it’s worth there was no quelling the passion,
Their love was dead, I was writing papes but getting [bad word] all said,
So I polished my [bad word] until my knuckles bled,
Treading thin ice and all I caught were chills,
Sacrifices were appetisers, mics instead of meals,
This hand was mine, so I played it until I made it expand my mind,
And burned my name into the sands of time,
Then rhyme gave me strength to less avail,
Got used to these backstabbers, so now I sleep on a bed of nails,
I never fail, but turning tides are moving too slow,
I swam the depths of every ocean just to prove I could flow,
So from the cradle to the grave, turntable to Holy Father,
I swear I didn’t slit my wrists I got the hip-hop stigmata.

 [bad word] 
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…

Verse Two – Suffa
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, 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 [bad word] 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 [bad word] 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.

 [bad word] 
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…
Verse Three – Suffa & Pressure
Either we’re all out, or we’re all in,
And if we fall out, then we’re all falling,
It’s the calling; it’s what I hear in my sleep,
It’s that shiver up my spine when I’m feeling the beat,
It’s that fear of defeat, the need to better myself,
It’s the culture; it’s not about spreading the wealth,
It’s forgetting the time when you’re perfecting a rhyme,
It’s every drop of sweat that I shed getting mine.

 [bad word] 
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…