Lyrics Legacy - U-God

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