2/9/2015 Underground Airplay Lyrics ­ Joey Badass

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[Intro:]For the underground…

[Verse 1: Joey Bada$$]What you lookin’ at? I’m with the Crooklyn packDon’t front, we brought Brooklyn backYou know where my lines is where the hookers atOne punchline outshine before I show ‘em where the hook is atWhere you at? Pro Era info, you could book us atWe snot­nosed, just don’t forget where the boogers atBrown skin, curly hair, tell ‘em J­Boogie’s backI be too blicInsane in the membrane from the empireBut I keep my mind in the pen stateNiggas wanna know how I keep my pen straight?Damn straight, how they tryna bite off of my template?Based off they sentencesNo, they ain’t got good penmanshipThat get you clapped like an assemblyAnd that’s all that I was sent to sayLet’s get a offer ‘fore sopa try to censor meThey provoked in the Mensa, intenselyNiggas thought they could relax but look tense to meThat’s all I was sent to sayLet’s get a offer ‘fore sopa try to censor meThey provoced in the Mensa, intenselyNiggas thought they could relax but look tense to me

[Verse 2: Smoke dza]I walk around Harlem blocks, pockets full of knotsNiggas try to jock cause I smoke the best potRoad trips, I let my young chick rockHold the work for a nigga slide at the rest stopHungry like a nigga fresh outSippin’ medicated punch, someone dapped outScribble my name, “X” your name outFuck off me, turpentine’ll get the stain outNigga my name ring bells from Wellington to BelgiumYou get your passport stamped seldom

2/9/2015 Underground Airplay Lyrics ­ Joey Badass

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Fuck around, kids you’re welcomeWashed ‘em up before the bell rungFuck 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, nigga, change your mind

[Verse 3: Big K. Are. I. T]Hey, let me ride, woah – let me rap a tasteWe cut them corners like stoners ’til they evaporateI had to break, no longer dancin’ by the rhythmA plunder suction of suckers, smoke, fuck it, I had to kill them, you knowNiggas ain’t fucking with CinematicHalf of these niggas ain’t even averageHow is it the word classic gets tossed around?But fuck them critics, I do this shit here for the undergroundBubble hotter than multi lava that burn their summers downItty bitty tittie sucker – where them hoes you claim you fuckin’?All up on my jock again, I get around like Pac and ‘emSlammin’ sushi rolls tied with teryaki paintI chop stick her dim sum enter the dragonSure enough, locusts, the grasshoppers is plentyThey peep my technique, but can never ever beat the senseiShogun, try me nigga, I know some, word to sonI crush they vertebras, my verbal play can weigh a tonElephant been in the roomThey can’t decipher for the life of many biters that challenge how we still consumeCyphers of so many writers are like us are surely doomedA king remembered in time, I thought you knewBitch…

[Outro:]For the underground…