Back 2 Da Undaground (feat. Rojoz)

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