The Underground Freestyle Lyrics

Attention goons and label reps

I've been snoopin' through your office desk

And all the garbage left

Made copies of your shopping list

And saved a drive of archive files

I found on floppy disk

You're passin' on my rap, shit

I laugh and crack the sarcophagus

See what all you've been discarding, just

Blow the raps off that, you can't imagine

How pissed off I get

You can feel it in your chest

In your esophagus

There's something ominous, in these documents

It foreshadows an apocalypse

I was just about to leave the mess

Without receipts or evidence

I found a stack of messages

An "S" is what they signed it with

And it goes like

Who knows how many nights and mornings

On the Gregorian calendar we've been down here

A year or an hour or a quarter century

Thinking we'd get called up eventually

But you couldn't be straight, to anyone, in the underground

Keeping your gates, can't relate

You toot your horn about putting down roots

And how you're so proud of it

I push up roots, cause I'm under a mound of it

I'm dodging gay moles and gophers

You're up top, listening to J. Cole and your loafers

Under the freeway

West Coast, underground

Rent still ain't in budget

But at least it's closer now

And now I can say, I'm under L.A

And you'd probably say, isn't it nice

Cause L.A.'s on ya

And I'd say back, you ask a lot of rhetorical questions

You're waking the axolotls while they're resting

Stop stomping around, you're coaxing up the gophers

Quit bumping Swizz Beatz, real cheese moves in violence

Like digesting some Stouffer's

I'm tired of wondering when it'll be my time

I decide to tunnel up and make it mine

I start digging but I'm concerned

I don't know which way I'm turned

I think I'm heading sky-ways

So I keep spitting sideways

Until I stop and understand at a glance

I gotta quit spitting

Cause this ain't an avalanche

You got your sunshine, your laws, your schools

I got larvae and unrefined, fossil fuels

Down here with all the ill lyricists

About 20 meters under your feet

Or if you're an imperialist

That's about 1.43 Learjets, over me

I assume that's what you mean

And you can keep your vehicles

Cause eventually you'll need the oils

And dig this shit up, if the theory holds

So sit, breathe, and then get really freaked

Always thinking 'bout

What might have been living under your feet

Eerie what lies awake

Isolated loners

Right under your Sealey floors and Isotoners

Criminals penning hymnals

Pushing up your petunias and perennials

Subliminal riots fought in low light and silence

Write a truth and hide it

Here you can fight a match

But can't light it

You don't want to come around

From the wrong side of me

I'm ornery and dishonorable

I'll pop up with an army of comparable, marmots

Poke my head up on your small farmer's markets

And cause a real scene

Like a scrawny little Punxsutawney Phil

Mean

Enough to fondle your wife

Directly in your stare-view

While she's debating between two tomatoes

Regular or heirloom

Curse your whole stupid town

To four more weeks of arctic snow

While your neighbor's gonna think

They moved to Barbados

You hate seekers and gatekeepers deserve it

You're deciding the fates

Of those who got it hardest

The artist

And your part is, shameful

You're a fountain of ungrateful

And you know

You may all lose a few toes, or a leg-full

No one's gonna pity you here

But just to teach you a lesson

That's never been clear

The rest of your hemisphere

Is getting blessed with a temperate climate

For the rest of the year

Just for laughs I'll find your kids

Who are also assholes

Knock down all their lego castles

And go give nine hackers

Their Minecraft passcodes

Before I go

I'll leave the lids off all their play-dohs

And I'll take your wife to Alfredo's