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lirik lagu legacy – thebadtoddler

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listen to the fake ones? i’d rather lose a beef to the weakest rapper
release the weakest album
and just let him top it for weeks or months and
ask him an autograph every time i cross him
and often spit his bars instead of mine
and just start using ghosts too?
this sh*t will never happen cause
old heads taught me a lesson
when you rap you deliver a message
in million different ways and methods
we wrote rhymes to love
story tell or dissing now listen
and tell me the difference between the two generations
they ask me how i’m putting records i just put on some efforts
on my lyrics and my pencil real mc’s are my essence
they say music’s art i got a brush and an empty canvas (get it?)
and if i painted mine sh*t
would shine in different colors
you still not writing your sh*t
diamonds doesn’t make you smart
grew up without a father and joined a gang
we know these sh*ts are false
why don’t you just tell the truth
i’ll respect you and i’ll be on your side
but if this game was a school
you would get f bombs on your report card
(get it?)
sometimes i wish we can all get along but
your music is keeping us from collaboration
no offense
is it your fault or your fan’s
i don’t know who to go against
d*mn feels like i’m doing the dirty work
with cold hands
i ain’t no longer turning on
my radio station because
of those who can’t spit
but buying chains for attention
sticking to a single subject
i just can’t understand their visions
here let us open a book and expand
our vocabs together
i’m kidding you r*t*rd brain damaged
can’t read the first paragraph
cause too much lean and drugs
it separates your f*cking brain in half
during interviews they got drool
coming outta their mouth when
questions asked but the more
they breath air the more
they unleash my wrath
i wanna go deaf or dig a hole
inside my ear with a drill
rather than knowing you exist
i’m just telling you how i feel
most of them can’t rap
but expose their wealth and pills
sh*t no wonder they pollute
the brain of a 4 year old kid
b*tch you can’t buy talent
unless you pay me to teach you
why the paper’s size matters
rhymes and the beat too
if only they didn’t stood in corners
or skipped classes in old schools
they would’ve learned so many things
we would’ve gotten on the mic too
i’m a drunk workaholic i dip my lyrics
in bottles and drink it
heard hip hop is broken
i was the missing piece
now let me fix it with healthy
rhyme schemes lines and a
very ancient beat i make you
laugh think or cry or just
leave you with mixed emotions
believe it or not i had to abuse
my pencil for a year
i wrote the sh*t again but
feels like i was stuck on a ferris wheel
i practiced my straight face infront of a mirror
until i grew a beard well
i hope it’s your new eargasm
like cum inside your ear
i wish we can all go back to how it was
once upon a time back when
motherf*ckers made the gun speak
between their lives back when
female rappers had more iq and
kept their bodies inside
i’m telling a story learn to
read between the lines

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