Commercial Underground

by Zuby

Commercial Underground cover art
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about

'Commercial Underground' is Zuby's first album. Written and recorded whilst he was a student at Oxford University, these are the songs that helped him to gain his initial following and enough buzz to sell 3,000 copies of the CD before graduating. Features the single 'Steppin' 2 Me'.

credits

released 26 July 2006
All songs written by Nzube Udezue

Recorded and mixed by Chris Fulton

Mastered by Ty Degroff at The Final Sound

Artwork by Craig Markus

Are you down with Zuby? Visit www.zubymusic.com to find out more!

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tags: hip hop/rap alternative hip-hop indie rap rap united kingdom London

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Track Name: The Movement
(Bad Man… Bad Man… Bad Man…I’m ready, Chyeeea!)

Yo, yo/ I’m comparable to summer always coming with the heat I keep it banging like a drummer when I’m gunning on the beat (beat)/ the flow is just miraculous I’m aiming and I’m accurate I’m giving u the half of it but Zuby’s got the aggregate u can’t control me (no)/ u can’t contain me (no)/ I’ll reconstruct the game but still I want the fame b/ cuz instantly I realised my raps define me so if I’m clapping blindly I’ll just be taken lightly (damn)/ I rap politely so listen up when I speak/ I spit it so sweet my rhymes don’t hit you, they greet (wussup?!)/ I’m creeping on a come up and its time for change g/ safekeeping when I run up and just make the game me/ roll like a Range jeep over the hate that they speak (uh huh)/ it doesn’t aggravate, it just motivates me (chyeeea!)/ you imitate I dominate, innovate and illustrate/ propagate my plan before its hip hop that you desecrate (uh huh)/ turning it around break it down and I decimate (uh huh)/ anything that stands between me and what I wanna take I’m gonna make big moves this is my year (yeah)/ u wanna hear the big tunes listen right here yo.

[Chyea, uh listen right here yo (uh-huh) Yeah uh, cuz this is it right here yo (uh-huh) / While other teens are on the scene/ I’m out here chasing my dream]

They say the kid is different cuz I don’t act my age, you dead right I did it different witness coming of age (that’s right)/ when I spit they all go quiet cuz they know I’m the truth (true)/ so if you walking passing by it u might think I’m in the booth and when I drop you gotta buy it cuz you know that its new (uh huh)/ new rapper new chapter and you know I gotta prove (uh-huuh)/ cuz I’m sick of people jeering me I’m sick of people jeering me I’m sick I said it twice/ cuz u people just aint hearing me/ disregard opinions if you think that its wack (why?)/ I know some people judge the fruit by how much flies it attracts (ha ha)/ but you cats can’t rap so you can’t touch this/ and no I don’t but gats but I will make hits (that’s right)/ and my style is unbelievable I did my research (uh huh)/ and my ideas are inconceivable like men giving birth (ha ha) (uh-huuh)/ I see haters taking aim but they’re loaded with blanks (uh-huuh)/ and yes I’m from the UK you mad I sound like a yank? (wussup!?)/ you should read up on my history before you run up dissing me my past it ain’t no mystery I’m lasting with a victory/ I’m always gonna give em what they feel in hip hop/ mic check 1 2, chyea! Real hip hop chyea!

[Its gone all of a sudden (uh huh)/ what’s all this stuntin and frontin? (uh huh)/ yeah I see your mouth moving but u ain’t saying nothin]

I sent off to the labels but they didn’t wanna help so guess what (what?) I’m appearing courtesy of myself (uh huh!)/ with pens pads and hunches I don’t need a singer tho cuz I got tense jabs and punches like the Jerry Springer Show (ha ha)/ look I’m not your average rapper not your average pistol clapper not your average slapper tapper man I flip bad rappers backwards (chyeeea!)/ riding and I’m poppin off sliding in to drop it off and grindin and I’m shinin til my prime when I’ma top it off (woo!)/ thriller like Manilla flow exotic you vanilla keep it realer when I’m spillin em Bad Man is bananas (that’s right!)/ and fame I’m in pursuit (woo!) so these girlies wanna gander I don’t blame em cuz I’m cute and I spit flames like Charmander (ha ha!)/ my name is God’s decision there’s a reason for that/ cuz I gotta purpose gotta surface reason is that (uh-huuh)/ yo big up to my God cuz he’s blessing a sinner/ yo big up to my mom, she gave birth to a winner/ much respect to my dad cuz he made me a man/ focus on the bigger picture I can live out my plan/ to my friends to my fans til the end to my fams/ your supports appreciated one love Bad Man chyea!
Track Name: Steppin' 2 Me
You ain’t steppin to me, you ain’t steppin to me

CHORUS (x2)
You just ain’t steppin to me sick in the illest degree
Mess with my family tree react aggressiv-ely
You ain’t steppin to me (no!)
You ain’t steppin to me (no!)
You ain’t steppin to me (no!)
You ain’t steppin to me

They say the quality of rap is going down like the Titanic so I dive into the track and flowin round and stop the damage (yeah!)/ I’m deadly like abortion is and stressy like a foster kid and twistin round the beat a metaphorical contortionist/ hungry like an orphan is and leaking crazy awesomeness and askin what a portion is and you ain’t got the balls for this/ dreams are all recurring like its 10 over 3/ and my scheme is more alluring like women overseas (chyeea!)/ but its Zuby and I’m sicker sounding oh so sweet/ yeah its Zuby and I’m spittin on an Ozone beat/ I ain’t even gotta try the flow is effortlessly mine and I’ll be sick until I die I rhyme ineffably sublime/ I don’t think that I’m the best I’m just in love with myself (ha ha!)/ so you could call it masturbation cuz I’m feeling myself (chyea!)/ or you could say I’m like a rubber cuz I’m scary when I bust/ and in this game I’m like a mother I’ll take care of it and stuff, what.

CHORUS (x2)

I’m more gifted than Christmas listen man I can’t fail (nah)/ every rhyme is shining blinding so you feel me like braille (uh huh)/ hip hop fans are getting aggy feel the music’s moving back or even wack/ yo don’t worry promise hip hop’s coming back (chyea!)/ I knock bad rappers down and brush my feet on them like doormats flow so sickly on the track my people think I’m snorting anthrax/ some say that Zuby’s hot and some say that Zuby’s wicked/ cuz if I touch a mic my people know I’m gonna rip it (uh huh)/ show’s seen like TV/ and I’m audio and visual lure ladies with the lyrical spirtual individual (woo!) I flatline instrumentals til’ the beat condition’s critical/ he is too original the bars are almost criminal/ the kid is now admired chilling out like school’s off/ and after spittin fire visit hell to cool off so I don’t care what got/ no just know the boy is hot I’m running late I gotta leave you jump another train of thought woah!

CHORUS (x2)

Come heavy with that beat O what more I gotta prove? (huh?) I’m stayin comfortable like seats yo I wasn’t born to lose (nah)/ my contents under pressure like the bottom of the ocean so I’m gonna blow it open witness lyrical devotion (chyea)/ rhymes are freely spoken cuz I get em from the heavens thank God daily for my blessings (I can channel my aggression)/ might die and go to hell just on a visitor’s pass (why?)/ then ascend up to the gates after I’ve kicked Satan’s ass what. (ha ha!)

CHORUS (x2)
Track Name: Lyrical Driveby Pt.1
Shoot em shoot em (what! what!) shoot em shoot em up
Shoot em shoot em (what! what!) shoot em shoot em up
Shoot em shoot em (what! what!) shoot em shoot em up
Shoot em shoot em (what! what!) shoot em shoot em up

Yo the spotlights on me/ God’s illest creation/ I’m on a mission with a vision lyrically operatin no relation to the hatin/ been waitin I been patient time to let this thing ring out/ too late for compensation mute em up uproot em up/ pull they plug out and boot em up with no nines but hot lines I cock em back and shoot em up/ yo I’m a nice dude/ but you don’t wanna get me stressed up talk reckless bout my loved ones promise to mess you up/ yo I don’t claim to be a legend/ ain’t one of the greats yet/ but its game until the ending so I’m like a great threat/ labels holdin paychecks dunno if its safe yet/ bet a hundred bet a mil/ yeah on me it’s a safe bet/ how many songs I hear that you packin a 12 guage with spare clips and hollow tips to rip a homie's ribcage?

Shoot em shoot em (what! what!) shoot em shoot em up

That’s what a lotta cats be yappin but not makin it happen / drama on they gon pull out reload and keep clappin? / you cats need to act your age sellin out for front page/ frontin like they got more weapons than that GTA game/ every bar I spit is lethal like a bullet to your brain and now your thoughts look like confetti time to Novakane the pain/ I’m a pitbull in the game/ some suckas pussycats/ only tough in the booth then you frontin a pussy act/ so I fire verbal shots and I’m getting any wussies clapped.

Shoot em shoot em (what! what!) shoot em shoot em up

CHORUS

Let’s make this clear so you understand/
A mic on my waist a pen in my hand/
betta duck when I ride by bust when I fly by glocks down lockdown lyrical driveby

Shoot em shoot em (what! what!) shoot em shoot em up

I bring the pain from onstage chyea everytime I pull it/ point blank or long range some bustas bout to bite a bullet the kid is hot you kids is not/ when I rock the spot no glock go pop yo top go pop I lay you out/ feed you sounds and kill the doubt/ passionate on the track/ I ain’t flashin it on the track but lyrically I’ll hurt you black I keep it poppin like a mizack/ the game will sit you out/ if your lame spit you out/ it’s a shame to pick you out I’ll take your frame and rip you out/ get this live amplified turn me up bump my stuff the people told you Zuby’s hot still its never enough/ your flows have got laryngitis rhymes are shaky like arthritis tho I spit it ain’t my life and still I’m sick like meningitis/ I’m the nicest when I write this grab the mic and start a crisis flow is priceless gotta sign me cuz you can’t outrhyme me.

Shoot em shoot em (what! what!) shoot em shoot em up

F’ the guns f’ the violence f’ the crime that’s just madness yo how long it take to realise its your people dyin?/ that’s not cool what guns do and that’s a real man slain and people looking up to you?/ that’s a real damn shame/ this a real man’s game it needs a real man change and y’all don’t really let the teks blow/ no/ you only talking gangsta cuz your A&R’s said so/ you cats ain’t ill/ but betta call a paramedic or a DR MC ER’s where I’m bout leave you bedded/ the top is where I’m headed so the industry ain’t deaded/ I’m never rappin tonz o’ gunz just to get a rep you know my steez know how it be/ gettin nothin but respect/ now it’s the moment of truth/ stand in my way and I’ma spray I got a full clip a mic grippa time to make em pay chyea!

Shoot em shoot em (what! what!) shoot em shoot em up

CHORUS

Yo it ain’t about who slaughter bout who spittin it harder/ I break it down like crossfades words are double-edged razor blades so when I spit it harder split medulla oblongatas think I’m showin off?/ nah man I’m just flowin off/ I’m tryin to take it higher so that people admire I’m on fire/ I’m on fire chyea!
Track Name: Worldwide
CHORUS

Put em up/ this is a worldwide anthem my playas put your hands up my honeys put your hands up
Northside Southside Eastside Westside your side my side all sides worldwide!
Put em up/ this is a worldwide anthem my playas put your hands up my honeys put your hands up
Northside Southside Eastside Westside your side my side all sides worldwide!

Chyeeea! Yo, Yo, now you know how Zuby does I’m international playa (yup!)/ spitting game worldwide an international playa (yup!)/ lemme tell em bout the flow its unconventional playa (uh huh)/ wanna hate what you don’t know and that’s irrational playa (uh huh)/ I’ve been rappin for a year I’m just a natural playa (chyea!)/ you fictitious I’m too vicious and that’s factual playa/ oh you thought you were in front but I’m just lappin you playa (ha ha)/ and ladies hush cuz you in presence of a actual playa (fo sho!)/ yo my rhyme style is stainless it’ll never get old (never get old) / I’m dropping heat constantly it never gets cold (never gets cold) I’m like the new rejuvenation/ the latest generation with the greatest dedication cuz I’m blessed like consecration (yeah!)/ you ain’t even concentratin (no!)/ the kid is too complex at your service people nervous like I’m makin a bomb threat (ha ha)/ you holdin up the wall man ain’t hear what the song said?/ put your hands up because its time to represent chyea!

CHORUS

Chyea, chyea, chyea, chyea, now the kid is sittin back I’m on fire (chyeea!)/ and the kid is spitting crack I’m on fire (chyeea!)/ maybe I’ll be hittin that baby I’ll be getting that rippin tracks flipping chat up thru the wire (wire) / and you know that I do it for the people (people)/ people cryin people dyin cuz of people (why?)/ I’m not lyin man I’m tryin cuz I’m sick of people fightin people white and people black and people equal (and that’s real)

Now you know that Zuby’s tight I was just showin you girl/ and if you play your cards right I might just go with you girl (ha ha)/ and yo I heard its ladies night I’m tryin to find me a girl/ and I’m a lover not a fighter come on grind with me girl (come on)/ life’s too short to be depressed so why you lookin sad girl up in the club to lose the stress/ why you lookin mad girl?/ can’t make a bad one good and once they bad they bad forever so you let the good be good and if they bad its like whatever/ (Zuby who you representing?) KSA no sweaters no bars Khobar and like 50 degree weather/ (homie who you representing?) I got em saying my name/ Zuby represents the UK where it rains and it rains/ (really who you representing?) homie Nigeria they gotta chill out with the gunplay cuz there’s people killin ya (bosa bosa!) / (tell me who you representing?) look it doesn’t really matter where you’re from or where you at this is a worldwide anthem.

CHORUS (x3)

(Worldwide, worlwide chyea/ bad man/ bad man)
Track Name: Before (Tell Me Why)
Turn me up some. This is real hip hop music yo. Yo, yo

In the beginning was the word and God said let there be light/ so Zuby picked up a pencil and I started to write/ and God saw that it was good/ he heard it was tight/ so despite outstanding facts the kids been blessed all his life/ The father sent me down a flow/ so I’m spritually lifted with a pen and a pad/ yes I’m lyrically gifted/ too intelligent for ignorance not arrogant or militant aint speaking blasphemy/ but I’m the saviour in the flesh (yes!)/ rain down on emcees with verbal precipitation I don’t front just keep it positive/ a message for the nations rhymin steady growin daily/ the kid is living proof (uh huh) a 180 from the game but keep it knockin out the vocal booth/ heavy drum kicks I stay grindin like the Clipse without bricks or hot whips they know that it’s a top script/ yo I’m climbing all the time/ but I know I aint peaked yet til I drop a verse the next day it leaks on the net (chyea)/ I don’t need to play it gangster to be credible/ nah, just say that I’m incredible gimme my props/ its been said the kid is hot/ its been said he cant be stopped/ oh no The Bad Man’s gunning number one spot.

CHORUS

Tell me why we try/ tell me why we die
Tell me why it's all over in the blink of an eye/
Tell me why all the faking
Where’s the love? All the hating
Before I die I’ma fly I been patiently waiting

Yo I love hip hop but wont the drama ever stop before another gets dropped learn from Biggie and Pac/ yo I wanna be a legend but I wanna happy ending not be laid out in white chalk examined by the cops (nah)/ I live a different life so I got different views/ but is being broke in the past really such a good excuse? The kids are listening to you/ the kids are mimicking you/ damn they know like every rap but they’re failing in schools/ I’m not tryin to preach to you/ I’m just tryin to get this through/ yo head it aint dead needs intelligent dudes (yup)/ yeah I know I went to public school but don’t change the subject fool sit yourself down/ and I’ll tell you whats cool/ guns no Zuby yes drugs no success yes yo I’m tryin to be the best no one can stand in my way/ and follow me and don’t stray/ cuz I’m tryin to kill the cliché every black man is a thug if that’s the image we portray.

Get my degree cop a deal get my hits cop a mil/
Spend a bit save a lot and give back to the world/
Cuz what good is it to me if I rock expensive jewellery but don’t make life better for these little boys and girls?

CHORUS

Yo I know I’m still young but got a lot on my mind/ they never know what I’m thinkin wonder where I get my rhymes/ wonder if I’m gonna make it whens it my time to shine?/ whens it gonna be my name on the posters and signs?/ to the people that hate life it’s a beautiful thing/ they always try to hold you down/ but keep doing your thing/ if I want it then I’ll make it so I follow my dreams/ cuz I wanna make a difference aint just thinkin bout me (not at all)/ I’m a priveleged kid yo/ just stating the facts/ so you can get a better picture see it clearly like contacts/ and understand my feelings once you know where my hearts at/ I’m aiming past the sky so I can chill where the stars at/ aint talkin bout those cats rockin stupid Von Dutch hats (ha ha)/ I’m talkin bout the place where the lates and the greats at/ not down the hot place where the snakes and the fakes at/ world’s mine for the taking I’m gonna make a impact/ believe that homie/ I said I’m gonna make a impact and spit raps bars up and down like a gym rat/ when I’m gone will you miss me/ be wishin I came back will I be a great memory or will it just fade black?

CHORUS (x2)

Tell me why we try/ tell me why we try/ tell me why we try/ tell me why we die/ tell me why we try/ tell me why we die…
Track Name: Baby Baby
1, 2, 3, 4 (chyea!)/ and 1 (mic check), and 2 (turn me up), and 3 (its time to roll), and 4 (let’s go!)

CHORUS B

When you’re rocking in the club/
And she walks into the club/
And you’re gawking in the club/
When she drops it in the club like whoa/ [whoa now!]
Now its popping in the club/
And beats knocking in the club/
And you’re talking in the club
(and she like)

CHORUS A

She’s looking at me (dang!)/
Its passable (I know)/
She touching on me (dang!)/
Yeah its tappable (fo sho)/
I know you wanna/
YOU know I gotta/
I know you feel me/
Yo I can’t really/
She's looking at me (dang!)/
Yeah its passable (I know)/
She touching on me (dang!)/
Yeah its tappable (fo sho)/
I know you wanna/
But you know I gotta/
I know you feel me/
Yo I can’t really...

So I dust my kicks off and I step into the club (yup) and I take my coat off now I’m repping in the club (yup)/ I’m a student, ain’t popping no bub and people think I’m tripping cuz I’m wearing one glove/ I'm just Zub so gimme my love and the cats gimme pounds and the girls gimme hugs/ I’m a young man ain't looking for no love ain't here to get drunk ain't here to do drugs (nope)/ Zuby spitting bars whip em up like masquerade (ay) baking up a cake feeding it to em (it’s they birthday)/ looking at me strange/ think I’m going crazy ‘how he up in this club yo he just a baby?’ staring back though like ‘excuse me lady/ old enough to be here ain’t fine enough to date me could you be so kind as to get out my way? Ill be back up to the bar for another glass of Perrier’ (ay)/ ain’t your average student man its mostly H2O I like to keep my mind straight yo don’t matter where my people go don’t take much to move me all I ask for is a dope beat to suit me some space on the dance floor/ tell the DJ bring the heat coming with the fire in your system like a virus got em screeching like car tires favourite rhyme supplier and if not I should be cuz I’m God’s decision (yo)/ peace one love Zuby
And it was at that moment when I see I lovely lady she looking at me man/ like she wants to have my baby my girl she a dime/ and this girl a nine maybe but that aint the point yo/ you know I love my baby.

CHORUS A

Take it now shake it now let me see you break it down/
Take it now shake it now let me see you break it down/
Take it now shake it now let me see you break it down/
Take it now shake it now let me see you break it down/

Yo yo yo/ yo I’m on the front line like a soldier of fortune (yup) no weapon in my hand I got plenty of options (yup) Zub’s the bearer/ was told to carry the torch and run with it/ til I’m finished I’m dropping heat (that’s hot)/ looking fixated what the hell do you want from me? (dang) ain’t a piece of cake ain’t sweet like Sarah Lee you can gimme your number/ ain’t coming back with me, player don’t need you girl I retired my jersey (chyea)/ I’m up in the club and that’s just how it be they want something/ so I’m putting the brakes on em so now you see/ I flip the cell tap the dig but soon as her back turns yo I’m pressing delete/ I don’t need another wife no gimme the mic so I can rip it spit up these bars I recite/ so I can let people realise Zuby is tight you can hate if you want man I’m feeding off spite.

Kinda made this song for you (cuz yo thats my baby)
And I know she wants me too (but yo thats my baby)
I know that things’ll work out (fo sho that’s my lady)
Damn I miss you when I’m out (but you know you got me baby)

CHORUS A

CHORUS B (x3)

Chyea/ this is for the 2 to the oh to the oh to the 5/ and you know who I am yeah/ it’s the Z to the U to the B to the Y/ lets keep it movin people.

CHORUS A (to fade)
Track Name: Lyrical Driveby Pt.2
This song is not about guns. Listen up yo. Chyea!
Yo, I’m one of the nicest man. I’m sick of proving this but I gotta do it one more time yo. Chyea, it’s the Bad Man. Yeah, it’s the Bad Man yo!

CHORUS

People wanna front I got them verbal spitting thang thangs
layin bustas down man shoot em up and bang bang
Don’t think the kid is hot the kid is hot you gotta get it through your brain man
cock em back and aim man shoot em up and bang bang
When they hear this track I got em saying ‘that’s the same man Bad Man
boy is sick lyrics he just maintains
Shooting with the kid now you should know you just can’t hang man
rip it up like ‘dang man’ shoot em up and bang bang

Yo yo, you see wack emcees running means the kid is up to something/ where’s he coming from and gunning from? You cats had better hide/ if you're spitting wack rhymes, and you wanna test the Bad Man/ I’ll pop you and I’ll drop you leave you looking like a sad man/ got some new flows and so I got some new weapons (uh huh!)/ got a rapid fire flow and if I hit it leaves you breathless and on stage spray like a twelve gauge in every direction/ and everybody gets it I’m too reckless for discretion like my spit’s a Smith and Wesson my technique is a teck (yup!)/ bullets bustin out la boca then they hit you in your head (chyea!)/ then they hit you in your side and your back and your chest (uh huh)/ if its me you wanna test you need a lyric proof vest (ha ha!)/ cuz the bullets that I fire they don’t settle in the flesh (nah)/ and the kid will never tire till I’m mentioned with the best/ any block any reason any spot any season dog I pack my heat but mentally I’m strapped to leave you leaking/ keeping you enthralled till I’m sneaking in the mall after that platinum plaques and I’m peeping from the wall/ speak until I stall cuz I’m reaping til I fall cuz hip hop is missing something like a sack with no balls/ heh heh the game needs me.

(Chyea, yeah verse 2. Chyea what you gon’ do? Bring it, yo)

CHORUS

Yo, now once upon a time this sucka tried to test me I got no issues when I’m beefing with a wack emcee/ he was talking real slick about the ice on his wrist (ha ha!)/ and to make the matters worse this jewellery didn’t exist (ah ah)/ I got a call in the morning someone sending a warning/ ‘Yo I found some fool boasting bout his non-existent earnings’/ so I got up out my seat on patrol on the beat/ ‘Yo he’s on the high street he said he’s tucking the heat’/ ain’t no problem cuz my flow’s about to tre-8 revolve him problem solve him you ain’t balling and delivery stalling (chyeea!)/ thanks for calling I’ve been waiting for this opportunity to show what happens to a rapper when they stepping up to me/ I spied him on the pavement man its already over heard you talking bout a Maybach when you pushing a Nova/ suck thought he’d get away but I load up in one breath/ then I bust a hook and leave him shook the same as the rest/ you underrated the kid I’m devastating you dig?/ mess around and you’ll get rearranged like chairs in the crib what! what!
Uh huh! That’s right! chyea (uh) chyeea (yeah!) chyea lets keep it going man (chyea) Yo (chyea) yo (chyea!) yo, yo (chyeeea!)

CHORUS

Yo, yo I can spit words quicker than the average man/ and I can flip verbs rip em like a savage understand?/ I’m sicker than you know and twice as clever as you think (think)/ so you people hold your breath and get concealed and don’t blink (blink)/ cuz I’m leavin people screamin leanin morally speakin/ I’m a demon keep em fiendin when I’m orally weaving/ and you know I’m nice already but I hold the metal steady not the type to end your life to type to make the song heavy (chyea!)/ I’m hot like the equator I can hit em now or later love the mic and I’ma date her take her out and I’ma rape her (woo!) from behind and I’ma break her I’ma rhyme and I’ma tape her (woo!) I’ma rap non-stop/ til I fill your disc changer tell you what’s even stranger got the raise to raging danger but I’m far from the creator just a killer teenager (that’s me!)/ everybody has a time and the future is mine/ so I’ma keep spitting till my prime I’ma shine/ you ain’t bustin these lines you ain’t crossin these lines I spit shine bottom line man my flow is divine.