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Letter from the Underground Video (MV)




Performed By: Pain
Language: English
Length: 4:27
Written by: James Lane




Pain - Letter from the Underground Lyrics
Official




Bank on your corporate rappers, what the f*ck's a drake to a dragon
I'm blowing fire magic, Kenny thinks he's Christ, but I've got the passion
Play polite, don't need to diss twice, it's more a singular action
Why would I waste time writing below a line you can't caption
Bubbly attributes popping off fashion, Champ Pain wins the attraction
Damp stains remain tactless, fact check fiction, found Santas
It's not X-mas, it's rap rounders, like your bodyguards
I'll run around baseless founders, put dots on his guard
Leave screaming how the f*ck he just rapped round us
And you can bat back, but no woods good enough to reply pine stacked
Build fake threat murder lines, laid out the flat pack
8th wrap, loonies put a rest on it, but Jimmy can still free five
Savages with empty tongues, full mouths, cos 20 come
Young thugs shooting baby sons, they all run when daddy comes
Preach balance and deny Rafa, real spirit for bank matters
Addicted actors lean so much they fell off the wagon
Donkeys following stallions like a fake marriage, perfect picture
Audience rides behind arse, horse drawn carriage
Mentally damaged plastic package, WAP is a cabbage
Remy's no Ma and Doja's rabid, being honest I like her rapping
Out here bodying girls, kill shots at BBLs
Devilish kells, the machine is killing itself, gunning for cells
The aftermath, gods will prevail, Jermaine man fails
Dethrone tails, thrown towards plain main, shaded veils
It's ironic, but keep praying, suburban hood whites saluting
Cos real f*ckers don't care about anything you're producing
Say it's on God, it's not only religion that you're losing
Fanboys, fanbases, aired out convoluting
It's only fans, behind scenes it's only mans
Birthday parties holding hands, making Meek squeal up on Instagram
Confused compilations cause brain contusions
Complicated delusions are fuelled by satanic Lucians
Jews top dogs tricking illusions, jump the metro
Boom into the future, how the f*ck can billionaires still be losers
Must have hurt a funny bone way they wave their elbows
It's slightly humorous, contract the devil, deliver nightly sermons to illuminates
666, finger tricks, youths and pick and mix
Bag a new flow monthly, Puffy's bitch is sick of dicks
Shaved head like Hitler kids, murder on their mind, no thought for what a killer is
Homicidal dreams become a nightmare when you're in the shit
The cats shower and get a pussy wet
Not just bitches but retards wearing hats with the sticker kept
Go mad for men spitting about stick and their dick
Same pricks can't even get head off your bitch
Get toasted singing about bread
Duet the baguette, let my French stick
I don't give a f*ck about what you've eat
Look what they spread, buttered yeast that infect
Delusions of grandeur we're supposed to commend
Poster boys that boast pretend
Or stupid enough to disclose an event
Shot him on the weekend, family gathering ashes on Wednesday
Wishing he gave it up for Lent
Everyone can be touched and someone's sword was mightier than his pen
His words spoke actions but now his voice is dead
Something got lost in the ether, too much heat not enough seekers
They put the lie in believers, walk a path with deceivers
Blow wind like geezers, I practice higher learning
No faith in academics, forgotten fundamentals
Tinkered with rap genetics
Pimping butterflies, the caterpillar's pathetic
Prostitute surprise, forget about Eric
I can B Rakeem, a suitable cleric
Save a priest on my rhetoric
Go against Imperials, true weight on this metric
Phony soldiers, depleting energy
Holding back wisdom preserved
Bookings at a high table, think about it
It's all reserved
Sanity pays for expensive thoughts
Especially if you want vanity you can't afford
My mic leads a conduit, linking us to voice discord
Don't confuse Millie and Whitney, either way Bobby Brown's risky
Groomed seven, things are stranger at fifteen
This is not hitting on women
Social media era, man this age is under
Rumble covers, each alert's just another number
The digital age where every spectrum's contested
The films are all touched up, the music's molested
Consumers get raped but find the memes so offensive
Pedo propaganda, till you eventually accept it
Never
Never
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




Bank on your corporate rappers, what the f*ck's a drake to a dragon
I'm blowing fire magic, Kenny thinks he's Christ, but I've got the passion
Play polite, don't need to diss twice, it's more a singular action
Why would I waste time writing below a line you can't caption
Bubbly attributes popping off fashion, Champ Pain wins the attraction
Damp stains remain tactless, fact check fiction, found Santas
It's not X-mas, it's rap rounders, like your bodyguards
I'll run around baseless founders, put dots on his guard
Leave screaming how the f*ck he just rapped round us
And you can bat back, but no woods good enough to reply pine stacked
Build fake threat murder lines, laid out the flat pack
8th wrap, loonies put a rest on it, but Jimmy can still free five
Savages with empty tongues, full mouths, cos 20 come
Young thugs shooting baby sons, they all run when daddy comes
Preach balance and deny Rafa, real spirit for bank matters
Addicted actors lean so much they fell off the wagon
Donkeys following stallions like a fake marriage, perfect picture
Audience rides behind arse, horse drawn carriage
Mentally damaged plastic package, WAP is a cabbage
Remy's no Ma and Doja's rabid, being honest I like her rapping
Out here bodying girls, kill shots at BBLs
Devilish kells, the machine is killing itself, gunning for cells
The aftermath, gods will prevail, Jermaine man fails
Dethrone tails, thrown towards plain main, shaded veils
It's ironic, but keep praying, suburban hood whites saluting
Cos real f*ckers don't care about anything you're producing
Say it's on God, it's not only religion that you're losing
Fanboys, fanbases, aired out convoluting
It's only fans, behind scenes it's only mans
Birthday parties holding hands, making Meek squeal up on Instagram
Confused compilations cause brain contusions
Complicated delusions are fuelled by satanic Lucians
Jews top dogs tricking illusions, jump the metro
Boom into the future, how the f*ck can billionaires still be losers
Must have hurt a funny bone way they wave their elbows
It's slightly humorous, contract the devil, deliver nightly sermons to illuminates
666, finger tricks, youths and pick and mix
Bag a new flow monthly, Puffy's bitch is sick of dicks
Shaved head like Hitler kids, murder on their mind, no thought for what a killer is
Homicidal dreams become a nightmare when you're in the shit
The cats shower and get a pussy wet
Not just bitches but retards wearing hats with the sticker kept
Go mad for men spitting about stick and their dick
Same pricks can't even get head off your bitch
Get toasted singing about bread
Duet the baguette, let my French stick
I don't give a f*ck about what you've eat
Look what they spread, buttered yeast that infect
Delusions of grandeur we're supposed to commend
Poster boys that boast pretend
Or stupid enough to disclose an event
Shot him on the weekend, family gathering ashes on Wednesday
Wishing he gave it up for Lent
Everyone can be touched and someone's sword was mightier than his pen
His words spoke actions but now his voice is dead
Something got lost in the ether, too much heat not enough seekers
They put the lie in believers, walk a path with deceivers
Blow wind like geezers, I practice higher learning
No faith in academics, forgotten fundamentals
Tinkered with rap genetics
Pimping butterflies, the caterpillar's pathetic
Prostitute surprise, forget about Eric
I can B Rakeem, a suitable cleric
Save a priest on my rhetoric
Go against Imperials, true weight on this metric
Phony soldiers, depleting energy
Holding back wisdom preserved
Bookings at a high table, think about it
It's all reserved
Sanity pays for expensive thoughts
Especially if you want vanity you can't afford
My mic leads a conduit, linking us to voice discord
Don't confuse Millie and Whitney, either way Bobby Brown's risky
Groomed seven, things are stranger at fifteen
This is not hitting on women
Social media era, man this age is under
Rumble covers, each alert's just another number
The digital age where every spectrum's contested
The films are all touched up, the music's molested
Consumers get raped but find the memes so offensive
Pedo propaganda, till you eventually accept it
Never
Never
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: James Lane
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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