| You get here |
| Vinyl Days |
| DJ Premier |
| That’s my homie, that’s my idol |
| On the road to success but you’re idle |
| 6ix on the beat, Rattpack, motherfucker, let’s go |
| Here we go, let’s get it all |
| All I need is one mic, one pen, one page to ignite |
| Subject matter heavy but the flow is MC Lyte |
| You mad as fuck, all you see is red like a conservative |
| All the critics do is talk, I’m really not concerned with it |
| Hella tired and we can make your residency permanent |
| Several shots, they tyin' up your body with a tourniquet |
| Let 'em rock, it’s obvious that he don’t know who turn it is |
| Keep my circle tight-knit 'cause people move deceitful |
| Money and greed will expose you to the root of evil |
| Already proved myself, not worried 'bout who’s my equal |
| Far from an Anti vaxxer but I moved the needle |
| She got me wonderin' if what I do is legal |
| Fuck it, I’m goin' a hunnid in this Buick Regal |
| Fuck it, I’m goin' a hunnid play, I’m Beanie Sigel |
| You still run that old game, like a Neo, G-O |
| You lookin' for me? I’ma be in Rio |
| Sunbathin' off the coast, sippin' Pinot Grigio |
| Out the country so much they like, «Easy gringo» |
| Straight off the two-track, don’t need a single |
| Travelled abroad for my catalog |
| With all this money, recording raps on my Macintosh, call it Apple sauce |
| Even with the cameras off, I be spazzin', dawg |
| Drum machine, analog, the North Face camouflage |
| That lo-fi dusty, Panasonic with the trackin' off |
| Marijuana smoke fill the air like L.A. traffic smog |
| Come on, homie, listen to the voice of reason |
| Yeah, you talk a lot of shit but don’t want the beef like a vegan |
| Was passin' through like the aux channel |
| And then I fell asleep on you, shit, we call you the golf channel |
| I’m barbecue grillin' these rappers in Croc sandals |
| Got money to cop Lambos but I’d rather chop samples |
| Many lines, many rhymes, shit, got it like Pennywise |
| Shoutout Big Brother, got many eyes |
| I’m like Malcolm peekin' through the mini-blinds |
| Fuckin' with Logic, that’s the reason that you stop breathing |
| Cardiac arrest caught you at your chest |
| Should’ve wore a vest, now you all a mess |
| You know common threat, you should’ve worn a dress |
| Polo high-tech with the navy crest |
| Cut from the cloth you couldn’t thread with a needle |
| Bought the shit at Fred Segal, got your bitch spread eagle |
| The revolution won’t be televised, they tellin' lies |
| They wanna strip your soul away and lead you to a world that’s dry |
| That’s why we in the kitchen cookin', know you smell the vibes |
| And stick to your ribs shit, no frozen fries, go against the gang, |
| get pulverized |
| I’m at the crib watch, watchin' Cobra Kai, thinkin' to myself, «God damn, |
| how old am I?» |
| Rose through depression like a rose, I was destined |
| Your boy reach his goals like Lee Rose with the left hand |
| When life takes a toll, I suppose it’s a lesson |
| Question, how you woke but you slept in? |
| Treddin' on your rappers like Midas for over ten years |
| Without changin' tires, shit, I should probably check the mileage |
| Back on my hustle, got packs in the duffle |
| Push rhymes like weight, yeah, you know I’m taxin' you double |
| I’m in a pocket like a runnin' back, run it back |
| I bought your new shit, hey, run me my money back |
| Fly by night, this that flight like Mike |
| ESPN, better get those highlights right |
| Perform better when the lights shine bright |
| You lookin' like food, it might get fried like rice |
| Throw on a chef apron and I turn into Gordon Ramsey |
| I seen cats sell they whole soul for a Camry |
| I seen your favorite artists do the most just for Grammys |
| I seen a grown man lyin' just to get to panties |
| I’m cookin' like grannies, the recipe is sick and we got extras in the pantry |
| I’m goin' Super Saiyan, just to represent the family |
| I think that’s why the haters can’t stand me |
| I’m not the socialite type, but my vocals quite right |
| I’m still spittin' raps like it’s Open Mic night |
| I’m still gettin' played from the hoes you might like |
| I’m still gettin' paid off the flows you probably bite |
| It’s Logic |
| Yeah |
| See—, see—, see—, see—, see the bigger picture so we can profit all around |
| Yeah |
| This is for my real hip-hop fans |
| I—, I want that real back, back when you would feel tracks, yeah |
| Yeah |
| See—, see—, see—, see—, see the bigger picture so we can profit all around |
| Yeah |
| This is for my real hip-hop fans |
| I—, I want that real back, back when you would feel tracks, yeah |
| I—, I want that, I—, I want that real |
| I—, I want that real back, back when you would feel tracks, yeah |
| I—, I want that real, real—, real—, real back |
| I—, I want that real back—, back when you would feel tracks, yeah |
| This is Logic |
| This is Logic |
| This is Lo—, Lo—, Logic |