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A lot of people ask me
Where the fuck I've been last few years
Shit I don't know
But I do know I'm back now (haha)
[Chorus]
Here comes the rain and thunder now
No where to run, to run now
I'll disappear, they'll wonder how
Lookin' for me, I'm underground
Here comes the rain and thunder now
No where to run to now
I'll disappear, they'll wonder how
Lookin' for me, I'm underground
Dre I'm down here
Under the ground,
Pick me up broken tibias,
Fibias, yea fix me up
Sixty sluts all of them
Dieing from asphyxia
After they sip piss
Through a Christopher Reeves sippy cup
Dixie cups, toxins, box of oxypads
Enough Oxycontin to send a fuckin' ox to rehab
Wack job and I'm back with a black stockin' cap
Jackin' off to a hockey mask at a boxing match
You can't say that yes he can
I just did faggot, now guess again
Better text message your next of kin
Tell 'em shits about to get extra messy especially when I flex again
And throw a fuckin lesbian in wet cement
Faggoty faggoty faggoty raggedy Ann and Andy
No, raggedy Andy and Andy
No it can't be, it can't be
Yes it can be
The fucking Antichrist is back, Danny
It's Satan in black satin panties
This is Amityville,
Calamity goddamn it insanity pills
Fanny pack filled with Xanax
Through every nook and cranny
Looking for trannies
Milk and cookies
Spilt on my silk negligee, lookie
Razor blades with me
To make you bleed
Cases of Maybelline makeup lay on the table with weed
Slim Shady, shit sounds like a fable to me
Till it jumps out the fucking toilet when you're taking a pee
[Chorus]
Six semen samples
Seventeen strands of hair
Found in the back of a van after the shoot for Vanity Fair
Hannah Montana prepare to elope with a can opener
And be cut open like cantaloupe on canopy beds
And gladbags yeah, glad to be back
Cause last year was a tragedy that landed me smack dab in rehab
Fuckin' doctor, I ain't understand a damn what he said
I planned to relapse the second I walked out of that bitch
Two weeks in brighton, I ain't enlightened
Biting into a fuckin' Vicodin like I'm a viking
Oh lightening is striking, might be a fuckin' sign I need a psychic
Evaluation, fuck jason it's friday the 19th
That means it's just a regular day
And this is the kinda shit I think of regularly
Fuckin' lesbian, shouldn't of had her legs in the way
Now she's pregnant and gay, missing both legs and begging to stay
[Chorus]
Tell the critics I'm back and I'm coming
To spit it back in abundance
Hit a fag with onions, then split a bag of funions
Mad at me, understandable, cannibal, shoot an animal
out of a cannon and have him catapult, add an adult
Captain of a cult, with an elite following
To turn Halloween back to a trick or treat holiday
Have Michael Myers looking like a liar
Swipe his powers, replace his knife with flowers and a stack of flyers
Hit Jason Vorhees with a forty, stuck a suppository up his ass
And made him tell me a story, gave Hannibal Lector a fuckin' nectarine
And sat him in the fuckin' fruit and vegetables section and gave him a lecture
Walked up Elm Street with a fuckin' wiffle bat drew
Fought Freddy Krugar, and Edward Scissorhands too
Then came out with a little scratch, oh
Looking like I got in a fucking pillow fight, with a triple back goose
Insanity? Can't it be vanity, where's the humanity
In havin' a twisted fantasy with an arm and leg amputee
Straight jacket with a hundred and eight brackets
And a strap that wraps twice around my back, then they latch it
Cut your fuckin' head off, and that's where you headed off to
Get it, headed off to? Medic, this headache's awful
This anesthetic's pathetic, so's this diabetic waffle
And this prosthetic arm keeps crushing my hard taco
[Chorus]
Where the fuck I've been last few years
Shit I don't know
But I do know I'm back now (haha)
[Chorus]
Here comes the rain and thunder now
No where to run, to run now
I'll disappear, they'll wonder how
Lookin' for me, I'm underground
Here comes the rain and thunder now
No where to run to now
I'll disappear, they'll wonder how
Lookin' for me, I'm underground
Dre I'm down here
Under the ground,
Pick me up broken tibias,
Fibias, yea fix me up
Sixty sluts all of them
Dieing from asphyxia
After they sip piss
Through a Christopher Reeves sippy cup
Dixie cups, toxins, box of oxypads
Enough Oxycontin to send a fuckin' ox to rehab
Wack job and I'm back with a black stockin' cap
Jackin' off to a hockey mask at a boxing match
You can't say that yes he can
I just did faggot, now guess again
Better text message your next of kin
Tell 'em shits about to get extra messy especially when I flex again
And throw a fuckin lesbian in wet cement
Faggoty faggoty faggoty raggedy Ann and Andy
No, raggedy Andy and Andy
No it can't be, it can't be
Yes it can be
The fucking Antichrist is back, Danny
It's Satan in black satin panties
This is Amityville,
Calamity goddamn it insanity pills
Fanny pack filled with Xanax
Through every nook and cranny
Looking for trannies
Milk and cookies
Spilt on my silk negligee, lookie
Razor blades with me
To make you bleed
Cases of Maybelline makeup lay on the table with weed
Slim Shady, shit sounds like a fable to me
Till it jumps out the fucking toilet when you're taking a pee
[Chorus]
Six semen samples
Seventeen strands of hair
Found in the back of a van after the shoot for Vanity Fair
Hannah Montana prepare to elope with a can opener
And be cut open like cantaloupe on canopy beds
And gladbags yeah, glad to be back
Cause last year was a tragedy that landed me smack dab in rehab
Fuckin' doctor, I ain't understand a damn what he said
I planned to relapse the second I walked out of that bitch
Two weeks in brighton, I ain't enlightened
Biting into a fuckin' Vicodin like I'm a viking
Oh lightening is striking, might be a fuckin' sign I need a psychic
Evaluation, fuck jason it's friday the 19th
That means it's just a regular day
And this is the kinda shit I think of regularly
Fuckin' lesbian, shouldn't of had her legs in the way
Now she's pregnant and gay, missing both legs and begging to stay
[Chorus]
Tell the critics I'm back and I'm coming
To spit it back in abundance
Hit a fag with onions, then split a bag of funions
Mad at me, understandable, cannibal, shoot an animal
out of a cannon and have him catapult, add an adult
Captain of a cult, with an elite following
To turn Halloween back to a trick or treat holiday
Have Michael Myers looking like a liar
Swipe his powers, replace his knife with flowers and a stack of flyers
Hit Jason Vorhees with a forty, stuck a suppository up his ass
And made him tell me a story, gave Hannibal Lector a fuckin' nectarine
And sat him in the fuckin' fruit and vegetables section and gave him a lecture
Walked up Elm Street with a fuckin' wiffle bat drew
Fought Freddy Krugar, and Edward Scissorhands too
Then came out with a little scratch, oh
Looking like I got in a fucking pillow fight, with a triple back goose
Insanity? Can't it be vanity, where's the humanity
In havin' a twisted fantasy with an arm and leg amputee
Straight jacket with a hundred and eight brackets
And a strap that wraps twice around my back, then they latch it
Cut your fuckin' head off, and that's where you headed off to
Get it, headed off to? Medic, this headache's awful
This anesthetic's pathetic, so's this diabetic waffle
And this prosthetic arm keeps crushing my hard taco
[Chorus]
Lyrics submitted by King of Some Island
Track duration: 06:11
"Underground" as written by Mark Christopher Batson, Marshall B. Iii Mathers, Trevor Lawrence, Dawaun W. Parker, Andre Romell Young
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., EMI Music Publishing
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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"Everyone felt [Proof's] loss, from his kids, to his wife, to everyone. But, for some reason, in hindsight, the way I felt was almost like it happened to just me… Maybe at the time I was a little bit selfish with it. I think it kind of hit me so hard. It just blindsided me. I just went into such a dark place that, with everything, the drugs, my thoughts, everything. And the more drugs I consumed, and it was all depressants I was taking, the more depressed I became, the more self-loathing I became…
—— Eminem, XXL, Issue of June 2009[20]"
"In the initial recording stages of Relapse, record producer and long-time Detroit collaborator Jeff Bass of the Bass Brothers worked with Eminem on twenty-five tracks, for two years after the rapper had received treatment for his sleeping pill-addiction in 2005.[11][12] The death of Proof caused Eminem to fall into a period of "writer's block", where he felt everything he wrote was not worth recording.[20] To compensate for this, Bass chose to follow a production style that would allow the artist to rap "off the top of his head, as opposed to writing a story."[11] Eminem would then freestyle or record vocals one line at a time before interrupting and then recording another line.[20] At the same time, according to the Eminem's song rights supervisor Joel Martin, the rapper began collecting additional songs without noticing it, as he would often record or produce material initially intended for the musical projects of other artists, but end up with tracks he really liked.[11] "Beautiful", produced by Eminem, was the only song on Relapse that was recorded in these years while he was not sober.[30]"
Gotta love him<3
The song itself takes a lot of the lyrical content of Relapse, removes the stupid accents and tightly hones the flow...plus adds a little old school Shady style...and gives you the best song on the record.
Rather him be genuinely funny and disgusting (like here), than lame, unfunny and disgusting(most of his recent output)...it just sits better with the listener
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