The sound I pop ain't supposed to be soft
and this won't stop people when I top the recordshop
but you know it flows below, 'cos above grows
the big dome power, they dictate the shows
it's not about transport, all about records
import-export, they avoid the shorts
with the way, they say 'walk-talk my way'
no way !, 'cos rudeboy's doing a sinatra play ! ok ?
pound for pound, I'm no clown, I'm principle-bound
I don't care 'bout your sound

it should be underground

The structure of my music is called minimal
the impact on every track is so invincible
music made by lyrics so irresistible
but it keeps musicians in suspicion, so it's dissable
critics see teens rule the scene, they ridicule
on the other hand jams are planned and made commercial
by money-hungry men, devotion is financial
recognition ain't substantial
and still no pedestal, hey

it should be underground

we play this way, outsiders shout fantastic
that our fame domain is far away, can't understand it
with soft souls on the roll, some say splendid
when a black acts like a man they try to condemn it
'cos nonsilence is violent, they try to ban it
radiostations, disrespect intended
well, I wait for a breakthrough, I've had it
when they grease the skids
I wanna quit, but that's too tragic
I go on 'n on, 'cos the spirit is fanatic
now, I search for the ones who comprehend and understand it
it's my duty to the ones who are devoted and with it
to unite, ready to fight against
the bigdomes who hold the strings in their hands
but we're feeling we plan our sound, it's underground

it should be underground

no instructions for a b-boy intention
rockband, drumpad can give the same dimension
your rhymecraft could be def, excellent
in the studio, do it yo !, according to your plan
but a hail fellow's vital for your crew and jam
'cos I know the mix is tricked by executives' hands
I tell you

it should be underground

A black man's sin, he's always too greedy
if I wave one bill, he sees only g's
it's what he wants to be, not what he used to be
a tom for a sum, he says 'yes, yes please'
now rudies' rhymes empty seats 'cos they rock your feet
I made no platter, doesn't matter, I still reach mtv
now you see indeed without devilish deeds
I can be treated like a celebrity. why ?
'cos it's art for art's sake, without a fake
but the bizniz needs money for godsake
they won't take my sound
tell 'em

it should be underground