Artist: Mr. Complex
Album:  Hold This Down
Song:   Underground Up
Typed by: kirenamloh@msn.com

Whoa...
Yeah, yeah, Mr. Complex...Tony Hawk style
Yeah, we gon' do it like...from the underground...
From the underground...from the ...ground
Yo, uh!

[Verse One]
Who is it that spits fire, but doesn't smoke weed?
Who's about to take it all, but not overcome by greed
It's Complex, wit' "Mr." in front, I'll bust your blister if you front
If it's a trickster what you want, check the reflectable glass...
'Cause in a second, I'll just be busting yo' ASS...
Change your outlook, out the book, take off your head
You try to go off your head
I'll shook-shock your world like a carefree curl
or, rock-shock your mind like a, South road girl
wit' a razor in her teeth
I see ya and I just, raise your beef, two cows
No bluffin' this way bitch ass, whatchu gonna do now?!
You change the sheets, fluff the pillow
Made the bed, now lay it it, 'til you're dead and decay in it (uh-huh)
'Til the neighbors discovers the smell, and yell
"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT FUNKING SMELL?! Funking smell" yo

[Chorus 2X]
We run it down from the ("underground")
We run it down from the ("underground")
We run it down from the ("underground")
This is how we do it from the ("underground") UP!, what?

[Verse Two]
Here you go, there you go, YOU KNOW YOU GOTTA GET...
Outta my face quicker than that!
"He's vomiting all over the place! He's about to DIE!"
But note I'm lyrically, sicker than that!
I need bed rest, I'ma Queens cat wit' a Brooklyn, address
Wit' a queen-size mat-tress, where I do more fuckin' than sleepin' on it
See I'ma never fall off, see I be, keepin' on it
Optune time tunes in I'm, leapin' on it
Hip-hop is the hunt, I'm the hunter, creepin' on it
I got it and I flaunt it like, birds can fly
I set your mental to instrumental you can, murder by
In your mental, once you step out of that your sent thru
Dimensions not mentionable
I'm pinchin' to pull Doberman Pinchers and I'm, henchin' them in you
To snap at your buttocks, so be cool, B-Boy
and Uprock Top THIS, pop-lock to THIS (got this)

[Chorus 2X]
We run it down from the ("underground")
We run it down from the ("underground")
We run it down from the ("underground")
This is how we do it from the ("underground") UP, what?

[Verse Three]
I kno' you got a lot of shit on your mind
Especially when you just got that, lil' itty bitty mind
So I must remind you like everytime
My rhymes are not somethin' you should take lightly
Hold this, fold fist, fight me
Like Roy, keep up Jones, Tones, bones, microphones
I destroy, so enjoy, you know you like your livelihood all corrupted up
You know you like your neighborhood all fucked, up
Everything bootleg, all the way down to your ankle
I'll lyrically SPANK you, but I'm not tryin' ta turn you on
Thank you, welcome, no you're not!
Don't even come around dumb around
I kno' you rhyme, don't even hum around, don't beatbox NUTTIN'!
Just zip up your lip, I'm cuttin' you off like pitbull tails
I sit through whales of tales, from all kinds of sharks and fish-eyed fools
I don't percolate in your circulation, I just piss in your pool, YO!

[Chorus 2X]
We run it down from the ("underground")
I'll gun you down from the ("underground")
You hear that thunder sound? From the ("underground")
This is how we do it form the ("underground") UP

[DJ scratches and Mr. Complex ad-libs about himself and skateboarding]