| I rock the mic like it’s my last chance to breathe | 
| Display a level of skill you could only hope to achieve | 
| Within this lifetime and I write rhymes that’ll make marks | 
| Shut the fuck up, when I recite mines, state syllables on snares | 
| Like bombs, so I’m guaranteed to blow up | 
| When I touch down on tracks, watch your whole crew collapse | 
| Like households, that are introduced to crack, wack motherfuckers | 
| Thinkin it’s your time to shine, lackluster blockbuster b-boys | 
| With «Krush Groove» and «Beat Street» | 
| Now they think it’s safe to drop styles on beat | 
| I make 'em all retreat, like back to back Halloweens | 
| Destroy the following, believin rap’s the sport for spectators | 
| How the fuck you supposed to blow up? | 
| Living Legends got the detonator | 
| For all these bitch-ass record haters | 
| So-called entertainers, just rappers online | 
| Nigga this Mid-City on mine, from the town where bangin is life | 
| Fuck around, get yo' ass gangstered for the mic | 
| For the record, there’s too many niggas grabbin mics | 
| For the record, none of 'em is comin this tight | 
| Ay for the record, 4−27 did the track | 
| Ay for the record, the Living Legends always got my back | 
| Ay for the record, you want it? | 
| Go out and take that shit | 
| And for the record, my crew had a show we ripped that shit | 
| Ay for the record, whenever this shit drops | 
| Ay for the record, just because you in the club you ain’t hip-hop | 
| I hit the spot, givin up that index finger and thumb | 
| To let you know where I’m comin from | 
| Living Legends bitch, don’t act dumb | 
| Cause some will wanna denounce the name | 
| Some nerd-ass niggas, without an ounce of game | 
| Tape sounds the same as the rest of 'em | 
| Murs ends the careers, of the best of 'em | 
| I mean this nigga starts battles in empty rooms | 
| And after I consume my shadow | 
| I’mma travel to your homestead, blow you out in front of your own hedge | 
| First fly off the dome like led in gunfights | 
| Fuck everything you done wit’cha whole life | 
| After battlin me, you’ll only remember this one night | 
| Play it over and over again in your mind like Bill Murray | 
| In a hurry to escape, but just to fuck wit’cha head | 
| I put the shit to tape, not just for you | 
| But for every MC, so you can peep where you at | 
| And see, where you need to be | 
| Proceed with me, through them underground catacombs | 
| Where the Living Legends roam | 
| Perfectin the techniques to speak, on phones type micro | 
| Thinkin you, buildin a reputation, just perpetuatin the cycle | 
| If all were fallin to the slang, fuck with me | 
| Take a bite out «Self Destruction» like «We're All in the Same Gang» | 
| Y’all niggas can’t hang | 
| For the record you a bitch, we gon' treat you like a bitch | 
| Ay for the record, pick a style, don’t ever switch | 
| And for the record, that whole tape you gave me was weak | 
| And for the record, next time you see me, don’t even speak | 
| And for the record, it’s always freestyle never written | 
| And for the record… | 
| Ay for the record, this is only the beginning | 
| And for the record the Legendary saga, is never-ending | 
| I’m from a crew of the most hated, underrated | 
| MC’s on the planet, yes I cram to understand it | 
| And hopefully shed light | 
| In a time when niggas is hopin on open mics | 
| Instead of what they write | 
| I compose prose to leave foes froze like Bobby Drake | 
| Go below zero with the flow and never break | 
| Ever make a man come to tears | 
| After rippin his ass, in front of his peers? | 
| That’s the shit I live for, and that’s why you live in fear | 
| I’m the man known only as Murs | 
| Makin you recognize and submit, after only one verse | 
| Wake Up Show wouldn’t play it, even without the curse | 
| You gotta kiss they ass first; | 
| but I bet they stop | 
| All that politickin after they get they ass kicked by Murs | 
| My aim was never to play games, on some Parker Brothers shit | 
| I’ve been on some dark and other shit, for a while now | 
| The style now seems to be independent, and well connected | 
| Fuck that, my family stay independent, and well respected | 
| This shit’s directed | 
| To every nigga comin up short, when the cash gets collected | 
| You can pick up this record | 
| Wherever good music and true skill are still expected | 
| Check it | 
| Hey, hey Murs! | 
| Hey you remember me man | 
| Hey you tore my ass in front of the club last week | 
| Y’knahmsayin? | 
| Hey, hey check this out | 
| You’re the greatest, you’re the dopest freestyler I’ve ever met | 
| Hey can we do it again? | 
| Check it out let’s battle let’s do it man | 
| My friends they didn’t believe me | 
| They didn’t know about it, but I know you’ve got it | 
| Hey Murs, hey, I I I I can’t help but sayin it | 
| You’re so dope Murs! |