(Intro)
Is it still? Is it going?
Yea yea
A’ight
So we gonna do this one for like the Ratpack and shit
Is it recording?
Alright, for the real hip-hop motherfuckers, you know what I’m sayin?
Yea yea, shout out to Bobby – my engineer
For tonight’s night in LA
We recording this mixtape and shit, working on the album at the same time
You know what I’m sayin?
Originary boy
Yea yea
Uh, yea
We gonna do it for ‘96
Yea, we gon do it for hip-hop yea
Second renaissance type shit, check
(Verse 1)
Who would have thought that painting pictures ’bout being broke
Would get me rich just like dealing coke
Like big brother used to do so we could stay afloat
I heard them guns outside my window, them gangsters would talk
Thought about the life I wanted, picked up the pen and then wrote
While they was firing, you could hear sirens
From people dialling and women crying in the phone
I was in the zone, trying to make a living
Heading to work in the morning
Nobody felt like I was mourning, as my dream was deceased
Until I quit my job, then my work ethic increased
Elevated to levels I ain’t ever seen
Stacking this cream, living the American dream now
I’m going crazy, I ain’t slept in days
Dreaming of Michael Jordan money like I slept in J’s
Always shouting out my team ’cause I get all the plays
But they the ones that motivate me on depressing days
See I’m from Maryland where cats draw gats like animation
From the smallest altercation, that can lead determination
With a rapper on every corner, like the rest of the nation
Passing bars back and forth like legal examinations
As a youngin I was running wild
Me and my homies skipping school, puffing on that loud
Doing shit just to do it, ’cause we wasn’t allowed
I thought I understood the world, but I was still a child, yeah
Now when my momma was at home drinking, thinking ’bout the bills
I was dreaming ’bout the mills, running round looking for thrills
I guess this is how it feels when your memory spills onto the page
And paints a picture of another age
Back in West Deer Park, chilling with shorties after dark
‘Cause when the sun is down, the police always want us down
‘Til we get older and hustle, now they try’na gun us down
We just trying to make a living off of what we’ve been given
Wassup
(Hook)
Walk on by
Walk on by
Walk on
(Verse 2)
They call me Logic, yeah that’s L-O-G-I-C
I ain’t rucked up in them bitches, I just write ’bout shit I see
‘Cause these lyrics set me free, fuck the world, let me be
And when I feel like I can’t write, that’s when I hit the MPC
My talent limitless, my time limited so listen up
If you can’t see the shit I see, you better get your vision up
I’m the king, watch me reign, born to rule my domain
Album ain’t even in stores, they trynna sue me for my name
Shit insane, so berzerk, never complained, I just work
Chasing after my dreams like them high school skirts
Back as a youngin, spitting game, try’na get the nut in
Living life to the fullest ’cause them little things ain’t nothing
My flow un-killable when I be murdering syllables
But I take my time, slow it down, check the rhyme
Perfectionist to the dime, from the womb to the tomb
I be rapping ’til I’m dying, doing everything I love
That’s the life of a don, skipping school, sipping liquor
Try’na get this money quicker, bad bitches, good weed
That’s the type of shit I need, lyrics bleed from my mind state
Elevate my mind and watch it rise like the crime rate
‘Cause sometimes I be high, and sometimes I be low
And sometimes I do shit I thought I'd never do before
My life is like a movie role that’s starring me
Got these women on me
I hit the club with all my homies, and the drinks is on me
At the crib with the shorty that I met at the spot
Pretty eyes, nice lips, Grey Goose what she sips
Put my hands on her hips, ’til she puts them on her tits
Freak bitch, want the dick, biting on her finger tip
I only fuck with nice girls, I never do this type of shit
I’m thinking ’bout hitting it raw, shit I must be wiling out
But that pussy wet as hell, I think it’s time to end the drought
Then I guess she could be burning, and that’s not what I’m about
So I dipped out, to live another day and die another night
‘Cause when I’m gone that ain’t go’n be the song that they recite
Waddup
(Hook)
Walk on by
Walk on by
Walk on
(Outro)
Ratpack
D’s up muhfucka
Ratpack
D’s up muhfucka
Logic is an American rapper born in 1990 in Maryland. Active since 2009, he gained fame with mixtapes like *Young Sinatra* and *Under Pressure*, preceding his debut album *Welcome to Forever*. Throughout his career, Logic has explored various musical genres, moving from classic rap to pop and alternative hip-hop. He is known for his intricate rhymes, introspective lyrics, and ability to tell personal stories through music. Some of his most representative tracks include *1-800-273-8255*, *Everyday* and *Homicide*. In 2020, he announced his retirement from the music scene to focus on family and new projects.
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