Underground Hits (Remix) lyrics

[Verse 1: Hopsin]
Yo, it's Rugged Man and Hop, we never get handed props
We keeping it dope and underground as the planet watch
If you want some bullsh*t, we spitting lyrics, then dammit stop
Talking like you the hardest artist and you can't get knocked
So keep thinking that, take this track and play it back
Just to remind you that everything you f*cking say is wack
But don't get mad and start cussing at us
Cause we just finally fixed the sh*t cause you was f*cking it up
Yo, I'm sick of the game and everything it deals with
Yo, R.A. come over and bring the kill switch
Our brains are real sick, insane and filled with
A gang of ill sh*t, we can't be killed, b*tch
Who want it with us? We never tow and get up
Don't try to step up cause I promise that you'll only get bucked
Emcees are scared running as we slowly erupt
We was born for this, yo, it's time to bring the chorus in

[Verse 2: RA The Rugged Man]
Yo, I'll put my di*k out and I'll pee on your property
Being a mockery, I'm abusive cheating never believing in monogamy
Mediocrity, pockets full of singles at the strip club, cash dropping
No class ass riding, I'm heinous, atrocious, repulsive, I'm past shocking
Rappers is speaking with no heart, don't start
It don't matter, I can slay you to Bach, Bethoven or Amadeus Mozart
At the dinner table cursing wiping c*m on your curtain
I'm a poverty pirate, a poor penny pitching pitiful person
I'm from the 80's where we were skeezing and pleasing the skeezers
Thieving and popping then
Shooting and robbing
And boosting and stealing your sneakers
Won't be in Forbes mag on no Forbes listes
But my life is parties and gambling
Hookers, whore houses and porn b*tches
Hotel orgies with groupies, we rock stars, heart throbs
On the roof throwing cinder blocks from the hoods at cop cars
I'mma disrespect you to pigs, you was squeeling too, they didn't protect you
Living and learning and losing listening to the lecture
Hitting it and giving it extras
Snatch your prom date, rip the c*nt hole
I'm the bully, get your lunch stole
House parties, stick my balls in the punchbowl
Come on, sing it

[Verse 3: Jarren Benton]
Yeah
The f*ckin' summer of son of Sam, rappers getting body slammed
Do a drive-by on you n*ggas with Pac's hologram
Bada-Boom, Bada Bing, big [?] and [?]
And I don't like you n*ggers like Paula Deen, mister Benton
Whip a lake and cutting in and bumping It Was Written
n*ggas, b*tches, sh*ts and getters, doc, I need a new prescription
Yeah, this for my n*ggas that's going through hell
Lately I'm f*cking paranoid cause sh*t's going too well
Depression made me go and take my life away
f*cking loser, Mama should have stuck me in that microwave
Wrestle my left arm, like "Jarren put that knife away"
You lucky b*tch, I'm holding myself back, you could die today
This is hip hop, f*ck off, get rocks
I murder rappers with Rugged man, organs get zip-locked
Nerds that you f*cking j*rk off, n*ggas bout to get murked off
f*cking rappers disgust me, like Rick Ross, with his shirt off!