Текст песни The Crates - Lxgcy

(Aye what's up victor?)

(Doin' there lad?)

(Man, shit whatchu been up to?)

(Same old same old)

(Aye man, aye I've been busy wanna hear?)

(Hell yeah)

I keep jamming on drums like rusty guns
Money root of all evil, you must be fucking nuns
Waiting for you day to pop, it's like your girl it'll never cum
This life made this esse forever numb
Better run when I grab a ton of this medicine
Blast like a veteran, across the setting sun
Lettin none pass like Gandalf in a standoff
Any bitch stepping in this cypher, I'll cut ya hand off
Amazing like spider man, with diaphragm
Snap my fingers, turn to dust just like iron man
Popping like bacon an eggs with oil in the frying pan
Flying like super man, crash through Hoover damn
Blast like a trooper man, watch how I manuver (Damn!)
I Stand firm, I weather the storm
Felt the presence of the third eye ever since I was born
You get torn to pieces, executed decapitated
Cut your legs off, so in hell your amputated
My mind states elevated, while your still widely hated
Right I'm now, I'm underrated, wont stop till I'm the greatest
Lounging back smoking a cigar on 40 acres
It's funny to watch the snakes shapeshift
Talk foul about me, as if they weren't on that fake shit
I gotta make it, lord knows its in my destiny
I feel the energy flow through this young entity
No way in hell you'll ever match me mentally
Business before pleasure, keep those two things separate g
Blow ya mind, call that bar the J F Kennedy
The only thing you'll get is a " fuck you " from legacy

Power to the people, uplift the clientele
Well, I guess imma have to raise hell

Power to the people, uplift the clientele
Well, I guess imma have to raise hell

Power to the people, uplift the clientele
Well, I guess imma have to raise hell

Power to the people, uplift the clientele
Well, I guess imma have to raise hell

Yo these people quick to hate, even quicker to judge
I'm surrounded by pussys, who wouldn't back they own blood
I flood this hip hop game, with aims of respect and fame
Want this whole fucken world who am I to blame
Spell me name right, L E G A C Y
Rep this hip hop shit till the day that i die
Never underestimate the quiet guy in the room
Cuz 9 times outta ten he's tryna place you in a tomb
(True)
Shit, I gotta fistful of dreams
And a twisted brain full of sick fucking schemes
And if that fails, I got a shiny pistol for ya teams
And with one squeeze leave the whole opp in smithereens
I had dreams born from movies scenes and magazines
Not these rappers way too high off of lean
If there's a mic to rip, you know this young vatos keen
Cash rules everything around me that's the cream
(CREAM)
Fools believe in god before themselves
Then wonder why the fuck that their life goes to hell
I'll tell you once, faith without action is useless
Combine those together, mother fuckers turn ruthless
Rap over acapella, no acoustics, or percussion
I'm the nicest one in Sydney, no room for discussion
These fucking hoes rhyme, flexing a knock off clothesline
Make my flows shine, drop more 16s then Columbine

Power to the people, uplift the clientele
Well, I guess imma have to raise hell

Power to the people, uplift the clientele
Well, I guess imma have to raise hell

Power to the people, uplift the clientele
Well, I guess imma have to raise hell

Power to the people, uplift the clientele
Well, I guess imma have to raise hell