Check it out, y'all
The Lords of the Underground the ones to keep it steppin'
Ay, yo, yo, yo (check it out, y'all)
Take a little bass out the headphones (the Lords of the Under-)
Word up
Check it out, y'all (a little bass out that, okay)
The Lords of the Underground the ones to keep it steppin'
Check it out, y'all (time to wreck it)
The Lords of the Under- (yeah, yeah)

Mad madness, trashy, brother from way-back
We're blowing mics since the days of 8-track
Certified, bonified, pull out the weapon
Rusted, your hoes gets busted
Run your jewels, shooting up you damn fools
Leavin' you loser lazy lyricists in bloody pools
Went away, came back, your still wack
Now your slobbing Marley's knob for a dope track
Coming off like a bra and it's the witness
No click-click or fruit business
Don't care about no money, got props in it
Flipping scripts with every letter in the alphabet
Wanna jump (jump) and jingle your rump (rump)
Here to pump punks with real hot lead chunks
Full grown, I ain't no baby with these rhymes, kid
Put the mic down, my peoples know where ya live
I chop you little brittle riddle right up the middle
And have the police playing the fiddle in the hospital
Somebody said, "He couldn't rip with the roughness"
Rhymes kick your teeth, but end up front-less
Soul survivor of a thousand beats
Sending funeral wreathes to all ya used-to-be chiefs
Is it raw? Do a bear live in the woods?
Brothers tapes ain't jack their best tracks is wack
I heard you think you got a chance to win
But my Glock is stopped off to murder the top ten
Roughed and rugged and raw, I'm like a callous
The Underground can say "ain't no fra-zontin' in my palace"

Check it out, y'all
No frontin' allowed (check it out, y'all)
The Lords of the Underground the ones to keep it steppin' (no frontin')
Check it out, y'all
No frontin' allowed (check it out, y'all)
The Lords of the Underground the ones to keep it steppin' (time to wreck it)

Well can I be the Flavor of the month? (Why?)
I got the flavor plus I can bump a chump
I got the funk, straight from my Underground hide-out
I freak it in the house and let the hits just ooze out
Bust on the scene to let ya know I wasn't fronting
Got ya screaming for my album, so I had to do something
Write tonight to take a bit not a bite
And watch the do-it-all freak you with all my might
Like "Here I am to save the day"
I stop the tracks with the mic, so I say "Touché"
And "On Guard" when I'm swinging for your brow
'Cause in the house of hits ain't no frontin' allowed

Check it out, y'all
No frontin' allowed (check it out, y'all)
The Lords of the Underground the ones to keep it steppin' (no frontin')
Check it out, y'all
No frontin' allowed (check it out, y'all)
The Lords of the Underground the ones to keep it steppin'

Just when you thought that it was safe to try and chop me
Run for ya life, now here comes Mr. Funky and I'm pissed
So watch how many heads'll be the takeout
Boy ya better look out, I burn ya like a cook-out
So get the flavor, the original Mr. Funky
More bangers on the clips and you watch me do my thing
Because I hit ya with the funk of the fly-talker
And make your girl bump-bump, get it, get it like Luke Skywalker
I can't front, I love rapping with a passion
Crash your head first into the funk, you think I'm slam dancing
See when you front, you make mad, yeah, all the way
Freak this, funky twin powers activate
Sheik on the mic with the cape and muscles
Crushing MC's while the girls do The Hustle
See other rappers try to diss The Lords
But yo, you're dead wrong, dammit, can't we all just get along?
You see there simply ain't no frontin' allowed
Yo, I'm out like the Cosby show
Peace to the Funky Child, uh

Check it out, y'all
No frontin' allowed (check it out, y'all)
No frontin' allowed (time to wreck it)

Punching your goddamn eyebrows off
Roughing it up north, lookin' like July 4th
It's a blast, smash and crash from my stash
Be watching your back, kid, your girl and the phat path
Talking 'bout your Macs and TECs
What's with that? You're getting wet like slow sex
Ripping on that old school kid
Leaving sliced as a slit since I wet your crib
No question, testing the west and the east and
Once the ammo was released and
I'll make your girl come and getcha, hope you get the picture
Boy, your better off if a pit bit ya
What it's like in the illest fight, believe the hype
I'm giving clowns more nose jobs than Mike
Fight's not alright, they bite
Spotlight tonight is hype
Trigger happy tripe, go hit the pipe, my all is wright
And ya know it's coming off, so don't ask it
Snatching the vocal and hotties on the rap tip
Macking ya boys up, bringing the noise up
And now ya need stitches because my voice cuts
Chainsaw, gain more and reign raw
And never let a brother play it is my main law (time to wreck it)

Check it out, y'all
No frontin' allowed (check it out, y'all)
The Lords of the Underground the ones to keep it steppin' (no frontin')
Check it out, y'all
No frontin' allowed (check it out, y'all)
The Lords of the Underground the ones to keep it steppin' (no frontin')

Check it out, y'all
No frontin' allowed (check it out, y'all)
The Lords of the Underground the ones to keep it steppin' (no frontin')
Check it out, y'all
No frontin' allowed (check it out, y'all)
The Lords of the Underground the ones to keep it steppin' (no frontin')
(Time to wreck it)

The Lords of the Under-
The Lords-

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Al-Terik Wardrick, Dupree Kelly, James Todd Smith, Marlon Lu'ree Williams, Raymond Smith, Tyrone Armstrong