Written by Ryan Tilly, Dan Rose, Brian Smith and David Willard

song on the radio, lost my rhythm and we can't even get a show
bank accounts droppin', the hits keep floppin',
MC Actions left town, while Cash Till stuck around
I got this really bad feeling that I just can't shake
i'm don't feel tired but i can't stay awake
tryin' to be good for goodness sakes, but I can't stop thinking that we might
get a break so I get baked.
so, I'm here by myself, remembering the days of the CPR wealth
being as bad as I want to be looking as good as I always do,
spreading all the love and the girls legs too
so stick around when the crew returns with a fresh new sound and a few
pounds too, we'll bring you back to an old school sound
makin' the show, with the rumble in the ground
The book of new school has got a new chapter, if you're looking for a beat
then we've got what you're after, We' ran out of luck
doesn't seem to matter, so walk with us Underneath Ladders
sick of being struck with the bad luck sunk in a rut just enough
to get a buck bring on the corruption it's okay cuz i'm
loving the attention, oh wait! did i forget to mention, we're still not messin'
around,  with the sound to astound round for round so i'll pound
all this doubt out of your mouth, with a one-two punch in a twelve round
bout, no need to shout, we can hear ya just fine, i'm a novice I promise,
i can't keep time, I'm bringin' the rhymes like a natural disaster, so walk
with us.. underneath ladders
here we go with the rude boy beat, trying our hardest to make
you move your feet, just a bunch of hobos arrivin' at the go-go
wanna see you there but it's just another no-show
which one's smarter? the bum or the martyr? there may be no strings attached
but life is always harder when you're dealt a bad hand and your shit outta luck
no on there to lend a hand, or give a flying fuck, let's run amuck, and see
where we are going, CPR is flowing but in vain it's always showin'
the number thirteen and a broken looking glass, black cat crossed my path
so i give it back to cash.
<CHORUS>
we need to take a break so we can assess the damage, smoke a
cigarette and eat a sandwich, the plan which was put into effect is
keepin' it real like Bela Fleck, so check out timing as i rhyme to my
advantage
I teaching spanish in my sleep I'm not quite sure why, i think it's too
many BT's, with baked in a PI
and by the way, when you roll that jay to smoke, it's two hits
and then pass not toke, toke, toke,
I can't smoke the green it makes me paranoid, void of all thought
distraught and annoyed
I'm unemployed so don't give me no guff, saving up my coin
because enough is enough
we'll i'm a chain-smokin', bucketbong tokin', out-spoken M.C.
but my bank account's broken
I taked ripped jeans to new extremes, in my dreams I own pants
that aren't torn at the seams