Back 2 Da Undaground ft. Rojoz Lyrics

We're taking it back, we're taking it back to the essence, you feel me

We're going back, baby

You know where we're going back to, yo

Back to the underground, the underground, b-b-back to the underground, the underground

Back to the underground, the underground, b-b-back to the underground, the underground

Back to the underground, the underground, b-b-back to the underground, the underground

Back to the underground, the underground, b-b-back to the underground, the underground

You a slave to your rap persona, bullets with your name on them, you never know it's over

Record labels send the shooters end the supernova

You wanna be a legend, Beyonce, Hova

So you volunteer for the crucifixion inside the Range Rover

Bend over for Diddy, cause you heard they make the Meek Millz

Hollywood stages, praised to prey on those with weak wills

Something strange for some change, you gotta pay those steep bills

Streets kill, but the camera got a better shot, the world is watching

Opps be on every other block

You tryna get the bag or you tryna get with K-Dot

To Pimp A Butterfly, Damn, you's a hoe, no hate watch

A new crop of entertainers led astray, I listen to the Tribe and what the vets would say

Industry rule number 4080, rec-record company people are shady, they're shady

Back to the underground, the underground, b-b-back to the underground, the underground

Back to the underground, the underground, b-b-back to the underground, the underground

Back to the underground, the underground, b-b-back to the underground, the underground

Back to the underground, the underground, b-b-back to the underground, the underground

You see me battle on in the city of Babylon, my dream is adding on to a deep pattern on

The architect blueprinting Picasso of rap, my art developed cubism, want a problem with that

Stop hollering back or I'ma holler with bats, stop your horrible raps and I'm a monster in fact

Count Dracula's back and the brother's out for blood, son

I'm not a thug, I'm just a prophet with a pen, but record labels see me as just a profit with a pen

They offering some ends if I dumb down my rhymes, cause if way down the line I give a message to the people

It'd be hard to cover up how they'll hang me from a steeple

Mayans burned alive

But if I have to die to keep hip-hop alive, I'll take a bullet for her

I'm fighting for her needs, none other after, but she's dying of a disease known as modern rappers