Lyrics:
every step by step all the way to the end zone
I don't go half way no weird side hug make you feel in the friend zone
Not the type to say period like
I Had a Dream Martin Luther King Young Black And Proud Am Trying To Get It By Any Means
Emancipate Yourself From Mental Slavery Bob Marley am
Def and Kweli
Zepplin, Onyx, Beck, and Chuck D
Feelin' of Bob Dylan, hints of John Lennon
Mixed with a bit of Pimp C and Bun B (Woah)
Marley in my heart
means I was retarded
Drank tequila
Hammered like Bob Vila in her apartment
I walked outside with Tom Knight, drunk
And we came up with this great idea
hella rude
I'm the reason that your favorite
Rapper's in a bad mood
My name is Logic, I was born in 1990
Ain't no need to remind me
That when you listen
linen by Armani, check it
My lyrical carjack, make your brains splat
High caliber gats is all I fuck with, now peep the rough shit
in my circumference,
linen by Armani, check it
My lyrical carjack, make your brains splat
High caliber gats is all I fuck with, now peep the rough shit
in my circumference,
fronting this is fraud
Way y'all cappin' y'all got talent
No Bob Ross this is art
Y'all be lying just because
Y'all want clout but for what
Y'all don't want
solo
Took two shots of Old Crow
To drown my sorrows
Cops torch my body by tomorrow, oh no
Tony sold poop to Bobby from Toronto
Conor, go box Floyd on TV
amongst Masons,
Catchin' brain from the president's wife,
The Illuminati can suck my dick - so I could bust my shit,
Hits from the bong with Tom Brokaw,
to me
More Buffett more beer ah ha yeah I'll play any song that you want to hear
A Bob Marley song or a sing along a little Jack Johnson yeah you can't go
often under their own headings
Lumped into the comedy category
If you're not familiar
A Tom Swiftie
I'm no good at playing darts, Tom said aimlessly
I'm getting by with my wicked ways
I'm loading up and I'm taking names
I wanna dig my way to hell
I wanna dig my way to hell
I'm getting by
young Tom Brady
Open up ya mouth, and catch a bomb baby
Good morning, dude, Eagle Street corner, Tune
Long dough, no short bread, no Lorna Doone
I'm
Man you hell of a pussy for
The shit you did last night
I could tell you nervous right now by
How you moving your hands right
Yeah please don't fuck
an fell n love
I fucked her brain stupid
Ain on. A couch im cashin out
Dem suckas lookin foolish
Smokin ounces on daily
Bob Marley zooted
He a fooli wit tha
neckin' in my tomb
Check it out yo, I smile like Groucho Marx
I make a joke, hokey pokey, and slide by like egg yolk
Play me like a punk like Penguin
Puffing on that shit that Bob Marley did
Snorting up that shit that killed Elvis kid
I'm looking paler than Michael Jackson skin
Living a life like
Uh, GOOD Music, this our year
Backing drums by DJ Premier
Now let me count it down
Who the fuck up in here
Common, Don, Old G, battle rap, oh
That
I'ma blow out his brains, in a way I'ma Play, I'm just tryna get paid, and I'm Dodging
The hate, ain't got time to debate, you Get killed by mistake,
I popped a pill
Went straight to astronomy
Pulled up in a rock fit like Bob Sagat
Sip red with a white bitch
Candy cane
What would the game be
neckin' in my tomb
Check it out yo, I smile like Groucho Marx
I make a joke, hokey pokey, and slide by like egg yolk
Play me like a punk like Penguin
neckin' in my tomb
Check it out yo, I smile like Groucho Marx
I make a joke, hokey pokey, and slide by like egg yolk
Play me like a punk like Penguin
another classic oh I'm old school
Tom cooling who know i gave them clues
How I keep it steady liquor try to do me dirty
Bit fatigued big lead by the second
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