Joey Bada$$ (joey Bada**) - Underground Airplay lyrics

[Produced By Navie D] [Intro:] F-f-f-for the underground [Verse 1: Joey Bada$$] What you looking at? I'm with the Crooklyn pack Don't front, we brought Brooklyn back You know where my lines is, where the hookers at One punchline outshine 'em 'fore I show 'em where the hook is at Where you at? Pro Era info, you could book us at We snot-noses don't forget Where the boogers at Brown skin, curly hair, tell 'em J Boog is back I be too brick Insane in the membrane from the empire But I keep my mind in the pen state n***as wanna know how I keep my pen straight? Damn straight How they trying to bite off of my template Based off they sentences That ain't got good Penmanship That get you clapped like an a**embly And that's all that I was sent to say Let's get a offer 'fore SOPA try to censor me They provoked an immenser, intenser me n***as thought they could relax but look tense to me That's all that I was sent to say Let's get a offer 'fore SOPA try to censor me They provoked an immenser, intenser me n***as thought they could relax but look tense to me [Verse 2: Smoke DZA] I walk around Harlem blocks, pockets full of knots n***as try to jock cause I smoke the best pot Road trips, I let my young chick rock Hold the work for a n***a slide at the rest stop Hungry like a n***a fresh out Sippin' medicated punch, somewhere decked out Scribble my name, "X" your name out f** off me, turpentine to get the stain out n***a my name ring bells from Wellington to Belgium You get your pa**port stamped seldom f** around, kids you're welcome Washed 'em up before the bell rung f** your premonitions, my proposition to the opposition Is get down and lay down or pop up missin' George Kush, when it's war, I'm firin' Money on your head, n***a, change your mind [Verse 3: Big K.R.I.T] Hey, let me ride, woah Let me rap a taste We cut them corners like stoners 'til they evaporate I had to break, no longer dancing by the rhythm of Plunder searching of s**ers smoke f** it, I had to k** them, you know n***as ain't f**in' with Cinematic Half of these n***as ain't even average How is it the word cla**ic gets tossed around But f** them critics, I do this sh** here for the underground Bubble hotter than molten lava that burn their summer down Itty bitty tittie s**er, where them hoes you claim you f**ing All up on my jock again, I get around like Pac and 'em Slamming sushi roll ties with teriyaki paint I chop stick her dim sum enter the dragon Sho 'nough, locusts, the gra**hoppers is plenty They peep my technique, but can never ever beat the sensei Shogun, try me n***a, I know some, word to Sant I crush their vertebraes, my verbal plate can weigh a ton Elephant been in the room They can't decipher for the life of many biters that challenge us, how we still consume Cyphers of so many writers unlike us are surely doomed A king remembered in time, I thought you knew [Outro:] F-f-f-for the underground