The latest LeggoELAND Production. Foundations of Freedom Cris B. on the beat, LeggoE with words, Ghostwriters in the crosshairs.
One of two humble servants of the Song of Songs, known collectively as Fil.a.ment. Transparent, concious hip-hop music from the heart. Fresh sonic production fr
One-half of the crew "Fil.a.ment", Leggoe scribbles and dribbles verses of liberty and mixes sound signals like circuitry for the Live shows with his partner in rhyme, Scratch Apostle.
Current acting CEO of LeggoELAND Productions.
Story behind the song
Friends don't let friends Ghost Write
Lyrics
I wanna make the music that can’t be defined by time
Refine my rhyme, divine by design
Align my mind to find the swollen grapevine
Hate minds that create grinds, procreate lives
That walk to the clock, make the minute-hand a mecca
Tick-toc to Tock-tic [just wait a cotton-pickin’ second]
Check it. LeggoE don’t stop [no]
Unless you flip the definish of the word ‘go’ [wow]
Will I stop [wow]
Yo, go juice is what my bones choose [ohhh...]
I reject the homo-genized
3-eyed freeze-dried super size rhymes
Loud as all all get out
my sly rhymes slice an divide
With Cyclops laser green light
I write to fight, I expose pink middle meat
Too many middle men meddling with ghost ink
So go ahead and go think
Use your mind for than just cereballar soaking
Your formula is old hat, cracked (coarse) and croaking
Like a carcass lacking core temp (kids poking)
I’m reveling an soaking in a moment of motion
LeggoE flows are lipid protein lotion (go get some)
~~~ HOOK ~~~
At the bottom of this rhyme you’ll find a name signed
That signed name is mine, that name signed is mine
And if you find this flow oh quite nice
Know it’s LeggoE, genuine, no poltergeist
~~~ VERSE 2 ~~~
East coast, West coast: arguin’ over whose got the best coast
I test most emcees. In peace I rest those with blows like Dempsey
Compared to LeggoE yer flows are empty
Def Jam to Death Row, produce pop like Pepsi
Test me? Puh-lease boy, I’ll give ya triple burns.
First, second, third degree.
So please, show a little common courtesy,
common sense from the likes of you absurdity
I know ya heard of me, yer listening,
At my mercy like the underdog’s a visiting
A contest of syntax and context
I got suicidal emcees lined up, sayin “I’m next”
Well I’m called so I’ll flex with mic checks
Slice hex, cuz the Wild Goose is bigger like it’s Tex-as
Makin’ messes of lessness
My freshness caresses headdresses
So check your stresses, I bring calm
It’s a song of songs and yo, it won’t be long.
~~~ HOOK ~~~
~~~ BRIDGE ~~~
no ghost can vouch or verify
the paradigm is genuine, genuine, so genuine...
~~~ VERSE 3 ~~~
“...it’s ten o’ clock, do you know where your eardrums are at?”
Here I am once again at a quarter to ten
I lend my free time to a tubular friend
My pen carves a fine rhyme at 9:59
Divine guides lines of truth to defend
At 21 season’s of skin my flesh falls
Submitted to the first of kin, my ‘yes yalls’
My chest calls, appauled at the fact
that truth lacks to stick to walls like aerosol
Music made well rhyme well writ
Lines well spit, money well spent
Time spent well, time well spent
Well spend time well, again and again
Anytime a fine hand is sitting on a minute
Well finish without a blemish like a digital digit.
Well fill a minute with verbal incentives
Diminish to the dust when Father say,”It’s finished”
~~~ HOOK ~~~
fin
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