Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Legacy, artist - U-God. Date of issue: 29.03.2018
Song language: English
Legacy |
| T-minus 10, 9, 8 |
| We have a go for main engine start |
| I got the block warm, tear it apart for 'em |
| Time to lock horns, knowledge my art form |
| Warriors spirit be the best by far |
| Still smash guitars like some pill poppin' rock stars |
| Killer machine, killer regime |
| Glimmer on your game screen, underground to the mainstream |
| Be it a classical antique, three-sixty circle |
| Switch on these niggas like it’s a dress rehearsal |
| Live in the fire, keep the gig crispy |
| Feed the friction, don’t try to fix me |
| One man down, calling the substitution |
| Second Chess move, that be the revolution |
| I want it right now, tearing the house down |
| High self-esteem, I’m showin' out now |
| Smokin' my ounce now, missin' my bread |
| Job on my head, high bread, two points on the spread |
| Embrace the come up, the funky drumma' |
| Til' the casket drop, last shot beat the buzzer |
| Remy guzzler, street peddler, head hunter, underground street thriller beneath |
| the bunker |
| Fish like cement gettin' my chips off |
| Chippin' my bricks off, NFL kick-off |
| Iconic symbol, that be that global force |
| My grand gesture surrounded by my train of thought |
| Translucent lamps, top of weed stalks |
| Licking my own wounds, I don’t need salt |
| I speak outlandish, a thousand volts when I talk |
| I knew Spanish, a hardball on the court |
| Hands on the pot, a heavy portion |
| Mix crack with the rap, product scorchin' |
| Check out my melody, hardcore density |
| A beasting pregnancy, the swarm start the legacy |
| Rhymes for a hundred years, this is my legacy |
| Pen and pad, sweat and tears, what a legacy |
| Words massage your ears |
| After I’m gone, these words be my legacy |
| Rhymes for a hundred years, this is my legacy |
| Pen and pad, sweat and tears, what a legacy |
| Words massage your ears |
| After I’m gone these words be the legacy |
| After twenty-two long, hard years I’m still writin' |
| After I’m gone, they still be recitin' |
| Birth of the boss starts with the indictment |
| «Get in that cell, nigga,» starts the rhymin' |
| Booked my first studio session on consignment |
| Test my pen against the beat for alignment |
| Push through the Winter Warz, there with refinement |
| One stroke on the paper killed all you green giants |
| Long after I’m gone the song lives on |
| Words get recited through the mouth of my first born |
| The powers on without the plug, still strong |
| Microphone king kong write for eight hours long |
| Local niggas won’t be bigga than B.I.G |
| I speak lines stay jig in your ribs with a quick jib |
| Sore losers always tendering it |
| Nervous nigs always smoke packs of cigs |
| Action packs that big |
| Rhymes for a hundred years, this is my legacy |
| Pen and pad, sweat and tears, what a legacy |
| Words massage your ears |
| After I’m gone, these words be my legacy |
| Rhymes for a hundred years, this is my legacy |
| Pen and pad, sweat and tears, what a legacy |
| Words massage your ears |
| After I’m gone these words be the legacy |