The Underground (Suffa Remix)

[Verse 1: Suffa]
We went from spitting jams to fifty fans in a little cramped room
A shoebox you couldn’t fit a shoe in to touring
Switzerland with my man in a mini-van
Being the man of the minute can happen in a minute man
And it’s funny, I’ve seen buddies that I trust turn away
‘Cause money can’t buy you love but it can earn you hate
And none of you gave a fuck till the movement went large
Now every crew is making music, every dude has got bars
Now every half-arse bar fly up in the bar rhymes
We sit about, spitting ‘bout the dark and the hard times
But got perspective on the fighting for the crowns and the such
When we encountered an old pal who had been down on his luck
In some Volleys pushing trolleys eating soup from a tin
My girl's like "golly, man these pollie’s aren’t improving a thing"
Well swap your worries for some Bolly, swap your suit for some wings
And fly with us, we light it up and it’s a beautiful thing

[Verse 2: Classified]
That’s where I started at, the days of Walkmans and Starter hats
The open mic nights mastering the art of rap
We man-made, underground like an artefact
We don’t need to worry when the market crash
I’m from the bottom, bottom of New Scotland
Planted all my seeds watered them then watched it blossom
Then they try to tell me over time we’d be forgotten, rotten
Thinking that you’re gonna keep me boxed in? Nonsense
Hilltop and Class rock till your noggin’s nodding
You can walk in my shoes but never fit in my jeans
I do this with no option till my body’s old and rotten and exhausted
Keep it going cause I’m living my dream
Till the grave we’ll spit the pain and, when it comes to picture painting
We might be the illest rated with the visuals illustrated
That’s ill communication, therapy for life without the rehabilitation
Keep waiting I’m about to blow up

[Verse 3: Pressure]
(The time is now for Pressure - Pressure MC, here it comes)
We about to blow it up, but we all started this as amateur
Carving out a path was a hardship for the traveller
It said that raps a facade, you’ll never manage it
In these parts, I guess it’s our scars that give us character
We misfits and slackers, at risks kids or hackers
With a wish list, sick of doing six shifts at Macca’s
From listeners to rappers, prestigious to hapless
I don’t need a gift to know that this shit is backwards
When we’re done officially another visionary
Will lights the flame, write their name in their sweat, blood and infamy
It’s gutter symphony fuck the industry
Let them come we’re the ones carving history
So we rhyme for the hurting, poor, hard working for
International heard applaud to local suburban tour
Y’all gave a purpose for the roar when the curtains draw
Furthermore ask yourself what you’re searching for?

[Verse 4: Solo]
(Without further ado, Kid Solo representing Horrorshow)
Follow me to a place I like to go
Liner notes are signposts to find that which lies below
Born in eighty eight so I came in late
To find for the first time in life I felt right at home
Through the growing pains and hostile takeovers
People trying to put us down like Beethoven
We stayed strong and remained focused
Until they had no other choice but to stand up and take notice
Never thought what I wrote on a page back in the day
Would ever have me catching a plane
Or rapping up on a stage
Staring out at the crowd in amazement
Thinking back on the days when
We were confined to the limitations of the basement
The subterranean kids became the main event
I pay respect to those who spent days laying foundations
Countdown to detonation

[Verse 5: Briggs]
(Now, let me introduce you to) Briggs
Take 'em back to day one
So they can see where I came from
Ain't nothing here; no scene so I made one
The open mics, where I earned my stripes
And I kill them every night till the motherfuckers paid off
We honed skills, kept it no frills
Pressed our own disks and made our own deals
Put ourselves on with our own songs
Plus spots that we're banned from, so tell me what's real
I've seen countries and continents
Hit a town where the concert is
And they spell it with my vowels than consonants
Never doubt the confidence, the talent's apparent
And you can pirate my shit, but I'm not talking to parrots
I never thought I'd be gracing stages with
Artists ripped from The Source's pages
I rocked shows with the squad, collected payments
But I do it 'cause I love it, don't get it mistaken, nah