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lirik lagu under the ug – under the underground

[intro]

under the underground

[verse 1: the g.i.b.]

we digging from the depths, for the culture
so ultra, better expressed ftd*ftc
for those perplexed alphabetically, we’re spelling elegies
by eloquent means, vocal calligraphy

globally local, role with intelligent beings
regimentеd to substantially dismantle
malevolent command channеls like sandcastles
they all come tumbling down, we’re under the ground

pound for pound, pure fighters
for sure brighter, we write gems like the end to end burners
may the learner comprehend, intent to transcend
each ephemeral trend, the saga begins
obvious to every head still nodding
we keep dropping gutter sounds beneath street crossings
it’s not often that we surface from the bottom
but we coughing up the heat cuz the furnace pipe’s knocking

[verse 2: survinylist]

in the shaft of survinylist, always digging for more
with the lyrical pickaxe unraveling ore
shoveling gravel, like handling swords
subterranean aliens, unearthing the score

diggin a pass, through a landmass of trash
as the fingers get dirty, yo, we learning the craft
and earning a pass to deepest knowledge to grasp
these stories will last, no need to polish the past

we’re stormin down fast, like some orbital crafts
lips like sticks of dynamite, as we blast
crackin’ the bedrock to pull out the diamonds
ee*onian writings of def rhyme titans

survinylist’s crew, subterrestrial craftsmen
from layers below with celestial anthems
lighting the game like a chest full of lanterns
mining terrain for the rest of the champions
[chorus]

[verse 3: survinylist]

i was born in the clinic of dr. sp
we surfed the sneakernet before he got a sd
i did a phd in ctrl*c and v
couldn’t fly free like a rouge fpv

met ill fellas with philosophical prestige
spittin sick syllables with tricky similes
stayin sharp to pierce through n rush the rz
i’m campin in the booth like it’s an rv

[verse 4: the g.i.b.]

this here’s for misfits amidst the fickle sycophants
intense, off the fence, we against the consensus
for scoffing populace fraught with fogged senses
we invent sentences condensed to convince

what’s the intention, forgot to mention
dissent from reprehensible condescension
we vent from stretched lungs
direct extension of redemptive comprehension

- under the underground

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