[Intro:]
Yeah
We coming for ya
Underground uprising
Motherf**er, it's too late
It's too late
It's too late
It's too late
Let's go
[Hook: x2]
Uh, if you scared don't ride with me
Cause any second I just might react violently
Every month, every year, it's the same thing
So f** it, murda the mainstream
[Verse 1:]
We specialize in agg' tracks, this ain't the Rat Pack
When I'm coming at you better duck like Aflac
Focus in on your bottom lip and then extract that
Rip it across like the flap on a snapback hat
You can't stop me every month I'm a come
And I'm a keep on hitting licks like I was punching my tongue
Trying to be victorious against something I brung
Is like running a marathon with a dysfunctional lung (come on now)
I just laugh when I watch the awards
Other than a couple legends, all that I see is frauds
Real music coming back, them some desolate odds
Women wearing s*ut clothes and men dressing like broads
Next year don't put no pants on, order you a gown
Homeboy you ain't no motherf**ing artist, you a clown
You a slave to the Master and you still in this trap
Equivalent to a dummy on a ventriloquist's lap
Come on now
[Hook x2]
[Verse 2:]
"We glorify stripping, we glorify pimping
We glorify sniffing coke and downgrading women"
They planned for you to be stupid, our enemies know
You ain't a falloff pimp, you just a industry ho
Yeah I know, you offended, when I say it it hurts
You don't know the game? Let me show you the way that it works
The record label sign new artists, then push and promote
Commercial dance songs, freak songs and songs about dope
They pay the radio to play the sh** and put it on blast
Next thing you know your five-year-old daughter is bouncing her a**
And your son is at a club doing a feminine dance
With an extra small shirt on and some pink a** pants
CEO's in on it, they deny it, they lying
You a damn fool if you don't see this sh** is designed
And I'm knowing you probably thinking "So what? We paid!"
But if he gave your a** a million, think how much he made
Fool
[Hook x2]
[Verse 3:]
See I believe in that secret meeting that left the game crushed
Truth be told, I don't blame the industry, I blame us
We let money cover the fact that these cats is evil
We lost control as artists and parents and as people
See, sometimes, it's alright to dwell in the past
Even conscience rappers these days be selling they a**
No lie, chasing the high cause the feeling is good
The influence of bullsh** music is k**ing the hood
Any money that they do get, they give it right back
We in the ghetto struggling daily, we ain't living like that
They k** the music that would breed thinking intelligent minds
Singers and rappers throwing up secret and devilish signs
Don't be fooled by the image and video represented
Them ain't his cars or his women, and that mansion is rented
You serving time on the label, I'm suspending your sentence
This here's the official underground declaration of independence
Yeah
[Hook x2]