| 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! |