Too Underground

Lyrics
[Sample] You've got the look You've got the look You've got the look I want to know better You've got the look That's all together [Verse 1] This agnostic front [?] nudity won't stand long [?] when the camera's on, I'm nude on stage Left [?] ideals [?] on my fuel gauge From what you see is crudely made Like you've never made it past high school grade You're a victim of my shrewd charade Minimalism, the tools of the trade Rhymin' it to 'em, put a silver disc on a jewel case For a studio audience on a lunar base who don't care how their food taste They cheer, but we rip packed shows all embarrassing tip hats slow To pimp fat flows like tic-tac-toe or mis-matched clothes (What are you wearing?!) The best dressed [?] sweat drenched [?] I'm less urban than [?], wiping my ass with a royalty statement You sing along like a Christmas carol [?] fish in a barrel We should be dipped in apparel that's suitable for an Egyptian Pharoah Not this tacky gear [Chorus] I dress like I'm not from planet Earth Not in your trendy gear, open banana skirts So the fashion director tells me: "If it's too underground, please dumb it down" I dress like I'm not from planet Earth Not in your trendy gear, open banana skirts So the fashion director tells me: "If it's too underground, please dumb it down" [Verse 2] Those fools can't style, they're not the Blowed members We make our trainees squawk over hot [?] embers I'm known to [?] overseas interviews And represent Cali like a top-go vendor I can hear [?] when your boys murmur Your stupid [?] loiterers You like [?] [?] per word Let me eat in my soy burger I don't want to sign your flyer with a sharpie marker Yes, I'm Driver, the party starter, but you dissed the Blowed Just 'cause [?] disrobe and I don't fit in your fish bowl I'm a naked freshwater aquatic mammal giving your girl an airhole kiss When she gives my pheromones a whiff And crews everywhere got a bone to pick But our studio software don't glitch and when I perform I'm gon' strip Blowedians [?] Don't bring out hip-hop cop in me, but I'm on my thrift-shop shoppin' spree And you're dressed in name brand gear, a souvenir [?] You should just stand clear I fly into your town with no landing gear These colors bleed out of the picture frame So all of the young critics want to pick your brain Labels can't house my explicit word games [?] fallen tears for the Project Blowed promotional stream-team blitz [Bridge: Abstract Rude] They were dressed in [?] their finest clothes Merely an illusion of conformity clouded in a little bubble of self-delusion and denial Cladded in the threads of fortune [?] glad to feel important Even though offering nothing worthwhile All others seem infantile Project Blowed is a thrift-store of styles [Chorus] I dress like I'm not from planet Earth Not in your trendy gear, open banana skirts So the fashion director tells me: "If it's too underground, please dumb it down" I dress like I'm not from planet Earth Not in your trendy gear, open banana skirts So the fashion director tells me: "If it's too underground, please dumb it down" [Outro] Ten years ago, while I was a future shock [?] Runnin' after the radio Tens years from now I'll be some type of crazed It'll be my millionth time killing it Completely dumbfounded underground shit I found it very boring So I transcended with both hands inside [?] Brought you artifacts from a [?] Hellbent on trying to represent irrelevant factoids Black boys come to compile a series of styles and different approaches That'll leave you lost in a midst of vacuum of musical context That's devoid of type of prudence Nude students come to try to understand how I can bear it all Stare at the ball of Earth and turn it into just a small tennis ball that hit it with my racquet This is no racquet, it's my rap shtick More than just a phantasm Busdriver has rhythms encapsulated inside of every word which is a vacuole A small scene, a microcosm, you might go and try to fathom But you can't really get to the bottom of... My unbelievable rap [?] creative aqueduct I rap like I give a fuck Give up 'cause you need to put your hands in the air And just don't stand there Project Blowed is a beautiful open mic
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Credits
- Writers
- Kenny Segal
- Busdriver