| Yo, you got that, duke? |
| Underground |
| Yo, haha |
| Underground |
| 2 Original |
| Underground |
| You fakin' ass niggas |
| From Mid-City blocks |
| Underground, underground |
| 2 original, check this shit out |
| Underground |
| 2 original! Motherfuckin' straight |
| Underground, underground |
| Mid-City, nigga, Mid-City, nigga |
| Mid-City, check it out |
| Underground |
|
| I'm a weapon of mass destruction on the mic |
| And far as my prototype, like a swat team, my vocals slice |
| Un-original, meltin' brains, my main frame's to leave mental frames and blood |
| stains |
| Internally, my poet style bust externally |
| Eternity holdin' down my |
|
| , city, West bound, my town |
| In a scandalous-ass, wickedest plantation |
| Us underground niggas is cleanin' up the sanitations |
| You hip-hop heads is facin' all bullshit |
| More |
|
| , to help provide |
|
| enterprise |
| And commercialise false living |
| Having you worshippin' cats who sinning |
| But this is a new beginning, a new experience of peace winnin' (Yeah) |
| We doin' underground big thangs, and all this shit gon' change (What?) |
| Catch that feelin', mane |
| (Aww, fuck! Straight up) |
| Nigga, you goin' down the motherfuckin' sack... |
|
| Underground |
| Nigga, 2 original |
| 2 motherfuckin' original |
| Underground |
| Motherfuckers comin' at you, 2, straight from the |
| Underground, underground |
| Underground, underground, fuck that, yeah |
|
| Wannabee original (Yeah, what), thoughts torn from my subliminal |
| Look down over beats, can't help but be unique |
| Raised in these Mid-City streets |
| Now I heard some bitches say |
| That the East Side is dingy, and the West Side is trinny |
| But this is straight-up Mid-City |
| Can't nare nigga bend me, now I'm |
| Straighter than most, but that don't mean you can play me close |
| 'Cause I will have done my crimes, but never done no times |
| Now I run my rhymes one of a kind, until I clock out |
| Angry niggas that mastered the artistry of a knockout |
| Playin' Nintendo 64 until my brain rot out |
| But still these concepts remain (What?) well thought-out |
| Brought out the best in these bitch niggas, so call me a pimp |
| Style OG, like my nigga Troy Limp (Simp) |
| In it for a minute while these other niggas just temp |
| So when yo' bitch ass is gettin' laid off, I just be gettin' layed |
| Say what? |
| I flash a rhyme that make yo' bitch put 'em on a glass like lay-ups (Hahaha) |
| Stay up, out my face and you won't get dissed |
| 'Cause before I give yo' ass a rhyme I'd rather give you my bitch |
| Than let you breathe on this microphone |
| You couldn't swing on my shit if it was in the strike zone |
| Y'all niggas still tryna see L.A. (What?), but we can't be seen (Hell no) |
| 'Cause we be duckin' 5-0 helicopters, tryna escape the crime scene |
| Between, Murs jump in the ring, turn in to steam, bitch |
| We out like this, Mid-City gang (What?) |
|
| Underground |
| 2 original motherfuckers |
| Underground, underground |
| Comin' at you from a- you know that shit |
| Mid-City life |
| Underground, underground |
| Stop |
| Underground |
| Straight up |
|
| Underground, underground |
| Underground, underground |
| Underground |
|