Song parody of
Underground Tapes
by Cash J-R
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I'm from a concrete jungle like B-I-G
Hit you with that bass line... I-E-D
Ya boy pysch ward sick, guess that's why they scared of me
Ghost writer, I got that flow spiritually
Feeling like BruceWayne, I'm in a two lane
Posted in the cut, out the window with ya boo thang
Way too slick, this world couldn't handle me
They tuned in like the tv on a channel be
Started rapping young, homie tried to battle me
Nowadays, I'm working on my salary
I'm bound to be, everything they doubt of me
An open letter, that I wrote to my casualties
Always on the track, I'm trying to burn these calories
And now I see, I'm bound by the gravity
But tragically, we focus on the rather be's
Told 'em one time, this world couldn't handle me
He's 1-2, 2-3-4 sicker than these mumble rappers that you see on tour
But they still-support-that garbage crap
Got Biggie still yellin' Where Brooklyn at
Got it tatted on my arm so he must be that
When they hear me on the track they like damn he back
They say that money talks and I'm collecting the tax
I'm here to start a revolution with the shirt on my back
They said "get em!", I got em
I let em fall like its autumn
I play them underground tapes, bitch I came from the bottom
I play them underground, underground, under, under, underground
Underground tapes, bitch I came from the bottom
They told me "get em", I got em
I'm just putting in work
I leave these mothafuckas hanging like the tags on my shirt
So I'ma get rich or I'ma die as I try
I been hustling behind the mic since 2000 and five
I play them underground, underground, under, under, underground
Underground tapes, bitch I came from the bottom
I'm from a concrete jungle like B-I-G
Hit you with that bass line... I-E-D
Ya boy pysch ward sick, guess that's why they scared of me
Ghost writer, I got that flow spiritually
Feeling like BruceWayne, I'm in a two lane
Posted in the cut, out the window with ya boo thang
Way too slick, this world couldn't handle me
They tuned in like the tv on a channel be
Started rapping young, homie tried to battle me
Nowadays, I'm working on my salary
I'm bound to be, everything they doubt of me
An open letter, that I wrote to my casualties
Always on the track, I'm trying to burn these calories
And now I see, I'm bound by the gravity
But tragically, we focus on the rather be's
Told 'em one time, this world couldn't handle me
He's 1-2, 2-3-4 sicker than these mumble rappers that you see on tour
But they still-support-that garbage crap
Got Biggie still yellin' Where Brooklyn at
Got it tatted on my arm so he must be that
When they hear me on the track they like damn he back
They say that money talks and I'm collecting the tax
I'm here to start a revolution with the shirt on my back
They said "get em!", I got em
I let em fall like its autumn
I play them underground tapes, bitch I came from the bottom
I play them underground, underground, under, under, underground
Underground tapes, bitch I came from the bottom
They told me "get em", I got em
I'm just putting in work
I leave these mothafuckas hanging like the tags on my shirt
So I'ma get rich or I'ma die as I try
I been hustling behind the mic since 2000 and five
I play them underground, underground, under, under, underground
Underground tapes, bitch I came from the bottom
