The Certificate (featuring Certified Wise)
Hilltop Hoods
The Calling (2003)

The certified have arrived, extraordinaire extravagant
Beers like confidence, man I'm drinkin' until I'm
arrogant
Cause I'm a cocky fuck, Hit your girl and I knock her up
Girly what the fuck? In the net like a hockey puck. (score!)
Rappers get embarrassed when they see the way that we work
They try hard to (sherm) like fat guys swimming in T-shirts
Research your Oz hip-hop, before you step to us
And if you step, hands around your throat like a necklace

Missed the drum, young ladies gimme a call
My number's written next to Fuckwit on the Chicks bathroom
wall
I'm slightly easy and a try bit sleazy
With the wit of a red brick and chiselled body of Kim Beazley
My theory is, never touch the mic quite serious
A kid goes out on dates later than their next period
My crews got it made, rockin the place
With more dope rappers to match every branch here to
colonnade

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 dog, now lets get straight to the point
shall we
This rowdy crowd of MC's and DJ's know how to pound
beats
Like kids with flat feet and crap beats walking down
backstreets
So much work went into this to line the notes of fact sheets
Like black sheep I've got two words for those who slept
(nya, Nya nya nyoooo)

You thought it was safe, well guess what (what?)
Boys then beware; my friends will find your weak points (then
what)
Get up in there.
Attack your mind, with a fine rhyme when I find time
And I'll find out that you're walking if you're talking
the grape vine
I'll waste time. Need to take on the job at hand.
The skills for this profession typical certified wise man
From Sky to land, I'm overcoming all your schemes and
plans
So take cover as I rain thunder upon you man
Every songs a collection of kids charmed lives
Like the porn section of gary glitters hard drive
Certified Wise throws a jam thats so hot it'd
Make a married man give up his annual blowjob

You better show somethin, with headin no bluffin
On the wrong side of my tracks, I'll smash your petticoat
junction
In a suffering city, I'm punishing the pretty
And if you dont fucking feel me I'll crush you without
pity

I arrange certain words amongst silence
To be heard in abundance while MCs face redundance
Stereo speakers exceed beyond specifications
Through extended noise generation
Let's cut the conversation to a small chat (why's
that?)
I'm busy trying to react to the hi-hat
Blockade and certified stand tall above ridiculous
under-achievers
And constant non-believers

I'm on stage with a handful of panadols handin them out
Cos of the head throbbin from the head noddin
And we about puttin you out for the count like mic check,
You aint gonna get certified respect
So hide your decks, ya mics I might blackout
In a cypher when I still take the title
The name's Sesta, I snatch an L plate and slap it on your
forehead
With more force than pornsex

--unfinished--