R·O·T·U· (Rebel Of The Underground)

(Intro: Antlionnn)

To the people of the world
When the modes of the music change, walls of the city crumble
Welcome to a new era, the underground is here
The time for Marcus Orelias is near, ladies and gentlemen
Lend us your ears (Marcus Orelias, come with me or get left)

[Verse 1: Marcus Orelias]

Weak minds stay on weak grinds, R-O-T-U until I get mine
The clock on my wrist says I’m never on time; picture stereotypes
Of most rappers, never letting me spit said I wasn’t the stereo type
My routine consist riding shotgun to my epitome, no food in the fridge
Stomachs on E, hand me a pen and pad to gas these emcees
Separation of soul from body, had me making errors
Fuck writing class I’m in the back putting together nouns and verbs
I could write a verse but writing essays was for the birds
I learned life’s a contradiction filled with metaphors, that won’t help me pass this test I never studied for
Rain'll pour never cry, pilot through the bad weather
I’m cut from a different cloth you know that tough leather
Every night another lecture, ready to pull the trigger about to detonate
The system say a letter grade is what determines my fate
Now, all my teachers stuck with me so let me jot this poetry

(Hook: Marcus Orelias)

R-O-T-U, they know the sound when I come around (come around)
From that Rebel Of The Underground (wassup)
Rebel, rebel, rebel of the underground
Rebel, rebel, he’s the rebel of the underground (x2)

(Verse 2: Marcus Orelias)

I love getting head from Sophia but only when the time’s right
I’m biodegradable ever since version nine point nine
More fatal than the perfect symmetry, (my delivery) more stable than last weeks mimicry
Ya feel me? Roaring 20’s taught me; the holiest hearts have holes
My creativity goes down the drain, when I rap about money and hoes
I’m not a rapper (too many of those); I’m a leader (not too many of those)
Hey Sophia, do you believe in fate? Because I think we’re soul mates
You’re the perfect one to talk about when them other cats mention dates
Speaking of dates, graduations around the way, I might not see stage
I got a lot on my plate; guess my eyes are bigger than my stomach
I couldn’t stomach guns getting pulled on us. It was a blessing in disguise
So here come’s, my reign with heavy showers, I don’t want to be King
I want respect, knowledge and a woman who can level my head
But none of these women fuck with me so let me jot this poetry

(Hook)