Tintin
14-02-2004, 12:05 AM
I'm listening to this song at the moment, and thought I'd put the lyrics on the web, since they don't seem to be there already. Should be good for some hits on ZGeek. The band is from Australia too (Adelaide)! Beware though, these lyrics are probably mostly mis-heard, as they are transcribed by ear!
Let me know how I did. :D
-----------------
Hilltop Hoods -- The Nosebleed Section
For my people in the front
in the nosebleed section
this for the heads that's loving the mix
my people in the front all covered in spit
lighters in the box (uh) suffer the pitch (wah)
Hilltop Hoods all hoppin this bitch
so we are funk leaders
punks who can't beat us
we bump from pump meters
we drunk you chumps need us
so
jump with us
down the front if it's
(if it's your flava) your flava
come get drunk with us (woo)
This life turned out nothing like I had planned
Why not?
By now I shoulda' had some land,
some money in my hand,
'round about fifty grand
but I got nothin' (nothin')
I write rhymes on the bus
I keep sufferin' (sufferin')
But the lines of the dust
You keep sniffin'
That shit is for the punk crows
This shit is for my bro's
My people in the front row
chorus
You know I looked around, the faces I'd know, I fell in love with the people in the front row
You know I looked around, the faces I'd know, I fell in love with the people in the front row
check it out
I've got hip-hop taste buds
I wanna hear that bass when I make love
Wanna hear some lyrics when I wake up
Write rhymes to get me through a break-up (BITCH!) :swear:
Rough a whiskey straight, no chaser
Win 350 breaks, no flava
Till I found this one
And may the
bass hook with the drum
my saviour
This is a come-back
Tongue that
Sharp like a thumb tack
So-tight chains the same
Get my foot back
One track, eight track
Gaydab residual
Noise band, funk that
We claim with the digital
toys, from the apache,
You're failin' to match me
Throw you're hands in the air
Like you're hailin' a taxi (TAXI!)
And move to the front
thro you steppin'
are you drunk bro?
This is for my peeps and the freaks in the front row
chorus
people don't complain if suffers in here
and you're in the front row
all covered in beer
and club owners don't say the place is wrecked 'it's your fault' (uh uh)
If the roof is on fire it's an electrical fault
Man, I bet you will baulk, when I
Bring it live like Friday night
Footy in my hoodie I can high di
get lie from the brakes on the bass one
lads if you're heading to the bar grab you're mate's one
ladies come chill
come up on me honey o girl I
got half a mil' in monopoly money
There's no stopping me honey
So you can take my hand
We can lay on the beach
And count grains of sand
Take a plane to Japan
And drink sake with the mafia
Fly to Libya for some Bacardi with Ghaddafi-a
Dinner date followed by a funk show (uh)
We rip off our tops and drop a round in the front row
Chorus
Put me here, and I'm all yours
Not for the money and it's not for the applause
No, oh no, no, no, no (it's for the nosebleed section)
Chorus
Let me know how I did. :D
-----------------
Hilltop Hoods -- The Nosebleed Section
For my people in the front
in the nosebleed section
this for the heads that's loving the mix
my people in the front all covered in spit
lighters in the box (uh) suffer the pitch (wah)
Hilltop Hoods all hoppin this bitch
so we are funk leaders
punks who can't beat us
we bump from pump meters
we drunk you chumps need us
so
jump with us
down the front if it's
(if it's your flava) your flava
come get drunk with us (woo)
This life turned out nothing like I had planned
Why not?
By now I shoulda' had some land,
some money in my hand,
'round about fifty grand
but I got nothin' (nothin')
I write rhymes on the bus
I keep sufferin' (sufferin')
But the lines of the dust
You keep sniffin'
That shit is for the punk crows
This shit is for my bro's
My people in the front row
chorus
You know I looked around, the faces I'd know, I fell in love with the people in the front row
You know I looked around, the faces I'd know, I fell in love with the people in the front row
check it out
I've got hip-hop taste buds
I wanna hear that bass when I make love
Wanna hear some lyrics when I wake up
Write rhymes to get me through a break-up (BITCH!) :swear:
Rough a whiskey straight, no chaser
Win 350 breaks, no flava
Till I found this one
And may the
bass hook with the drum
my saviour
This is a come-back
Tongue that
Sharp like a thumb tack
So-tight chains the same
Get my foot back
One track, eight track
Gaydab residual
Noise band, funk that
We claim with the digital
toys, from the apache,
You're failin' to match me
Throw you're hands in the air
Like you're hailin' a taxi (TAXI!)
And move to the front
thro you steppin'
are you drunk bro?
This is for my peeps and the freaks in the front row
chorus
people don't complain if suffers in here
and you're in the front row
all covered in beer
and club owners don't say the place is wrecked 'it's your fault' (uh uh)
If the roof is on fire it's an electrical fault
Man, I bet you will baulk, when I
Bring it live like Friday night
Footy in my hoodie I can high di
get lie from the brakes on the bass one
lads if you're heading to the bar grab you're mate's one
ladies come chill
come up on me honey o girl I
got half a mil' in monopoly money
There's no stopping me honey
So you can take my hand
We can lay on the beach
And count grains of sand
Take a plane to Japan
And drink sake with the mafia
Fly to Libya for some Bacardi with Ghaddafi-a
Dinner date followed by a funk show (uh)
We rip off our tops and drop a round in the front row
Chorus
Put me here, and I'm all yours
Not for the money and it's not for the applause
No, oh no, no, no, no (it's for the nosebleed section)
Chorus