The Underground found

The underground goes down like a pervert to a whore,
The thunder sounds are fiercer than a thousand lions raw.
Your numbers down, your time is up,
You dust yourself off and fucking strut,
Put your vice on the cup or just sniff up, spend every buck or penny on the filthy muck,
There ain't no use in giving up,
U got fuck all to loose,
So bring on the ruck,
Let me bruise, let me duck,
Shoot me to flames or ill tuck u rite up.
It's a cut from a knife or a slice to your head,
It's like red water falls when you've made your own bed,
Get ahead, try to love, earn your bread, stale and tough
soldier on or be dead, in the wrist, in the gut.
Be the iron fist in the velvet glove.
Soft finger tips to the clenched fist of lead.
Middle finger to the guv, loyalty to your Bruv and honesty to the one you wed. Fuck the stuff and your street cred, leave the rutt when u can or you'll stay to regret,
Metal may rust but what lies beneath on that blade, be it trust, in shades of red, for the ones that you sled,
May the reason for treason be for something worth you breathing,
May the rust be your breath on the day you received them,
Condensation of rest upon war in ones mind,
let that air breath the reason you soar in blue sky's.
The underground is found and then the breeze through trees like peaceful sounds.
Who ever thought this blood soaked hound, could fly in light,
from dark be found.