The Underground Freestyle Video (MV)

Attention goons and label reps
I've been snoopin' through your office desk
And all the garbage left
Made copies of your shopping list
And saved a drive of archive files
I found on floppy disk
You're passin' on my rap, shit
I laugh and crack the sarcophagus
See what all you've been discarding, just
Blow the raps off that, you can't imagine
How pissed off I get
You can feel it in your chest
In your esophagus
There's something ominous, in these documents
It foreshadows an apocalypse
I was just about to leave the mess
Without receipts or evidence
I found a stack of messages
An "S" is what they signed it with
And it goes like
Who knows how many nights and mornings
On the Gregorian calendar we've been down here
A year or an hour or a quarter century
Thinking we'd get called up eventually
But you couldn't be straight, to anyone, in the underground
Keeping your gates, can't relate
You toot your horn about putting down roots
And how you're so proud of it
I push up roots, cause I'm under a mound of it
I'm dodging gay moles and gophers
You're up top, listening to J. Cole and your loafers
Under the freeway
West Coast, underground
Rent still ain't in budget
But at least it's closer now
And now I can say, I'm under L.A
And you'd probably say, isn't it nice
Cause L.A.'s on ya
And I'd say back, you ask a lot of rhetorical questions
You're waking the axolotls while they're resting
Stop stomping around, you're coaxing up the gophers
Quit bumping Swizz Beatz, real cheese moves in violence
Like digesting some Stouffer's
I'm tired of wondering when it'll be my time
I decide to tunnel up and make it mine
I start digging but I'm concerned
I don't know which way I'm turned
I think I'm heading sky-ways
So I keep spitting sideways
Until I stop and understand at a glance
I gotta quit spitting
Cause this ain't an avalanche
You got your sunshine, your laws, your schools
I got larvae and unrefined, fossil fuels
Down here with all the ill lyricists
About 20 meters under your feet
Or if you're an imperialist
That's about 1.43 Learjets, over me
I assume that's what you mean
And you can keep your vehicles
Cause eventually you'll need the oils
And dig this shit up, if the theory holds
So sit, breathe, and then get really freaked
Always thinking 'bout
What might have been living under your feet
Eerie what lies awake
Isolated loners
Right under your Sealey floors and Isotoners
Criminals penning hymnals
Pushing up your petunias and perennials
Subliminal riots fought in low light and silence
Write a truth and hide it
Here you can fight a match
But can't light it
You don't want to come around
From the wrong side of me
I'm ornery and dishonorable
I'll pop up with an army of comparable, marmots
Poke my head up on your small farmer's markets
And cause a real scene
Like a scrawny little Punxsutawney Phil
Mean
Enough to fondle your wife
Directly in your stare-view
While she's debating between two tomatoes
Regular or heirloom
Curse your whole stupid town
To four more weeks of arctic snow
While your neighbor's gonna think
They moved to Barbados
You hate seekers and gatekeepers deserve it
You're deciding the fates
Of those who got it hardest
The artist
And your part is, shameful
You're a fountain of ungrateful
And you know
You may all lose a few toes, or a leg-full
No one's gonna pity you here
But just to teach you a lesson
That's never been clear
The rest of your hemisphere
Is getting blessed with a temperate climate
For the rest of the year
Just for laughs I'll find your kids
Who are also assholes
Knock down all their lego castles
And go give nine hackers
Their Minecraft passcodes
Before I go
I'll leave the lids off all their play-dohs
And I'll take your wife to Alfredo's