Released: February 25, 2013
Songwriter: Logic
Producer: C-Sick
[Intro]
Is it still, is it going? (Yeah yeah)
(Alright) So we gon’ do this one like for the RattPack and shit, is it recording?
Alright for the real hip-hop mothafuckas, you know what I’m sayin'?
(Yeah yeah) Shout out to Bobby, my engineer
It’s a nice night in L.A
We're recordin' this mixtape and shit, workin' on the album at the same time, you know what I’m sayin'?
Visionary boy
Yeah yeah, uh, yeah, we gon’ do it for 96’ (yeah)
We gon’ do it for hip-hop (yeah second renaissance type shit check it)
[Verse 1]
Who would have thought that painting pictures ’bout being broke
Would get me riches like dealing coke?
Like big brother used to do so we could stay afloat
I heard them guns outside my window, them gangsters would tote
Thought about the life I wanted, picked up the pen and then wrote
While they was firing, you could hear sirens
From people dialing and women crying in the phone
I was in the zone, trying to make a living
Heading to work in the morning
Everyday 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 to termination
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 mama 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 wrapped 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, but 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 tryna sue me for my name
Shit insane, so berserk, never complained, I just work
Chasing after my dreams like them high school skirts
Back as a youngin, spitting game, tryna get the nut in
Living life to the fullest ’cause them little things ain’t nothing
My flow unkillable 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
Tryna 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
Both 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 wildin' out
But that pussy wet as hell, I think it’s time to end the drought
Then again 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 gon' be the song that they recite
What up?
Is it still, is it going? (Yeah yeah)
(Alright) So we gon’ do this one like for the RattPack and shit, is it recording?
Alright for the real hip-hop mothafuckas, you know what I’m sayin'?
(Yeah yeah) Shout out to Bobby, my engineer
It’s a nice night in L.A
We're recordin' this mixtape and shit, workin' on the album at the same time, you know what I’m sayin'?
Visionary boy
Yeah yeah, uh, yeah, we gon’ do it for 96’ (yeah)
We gon’ do it for hip-hop (yeah second renaissance type shit check it)
[Verse 1]
Who would have thought that painting pictures ’bout being broke
Would get me riches like dealing coke?
Like big brother used to do so we could stay afloat
I heard them guns outside my window, them gangsters would tote
Thought about the life I wanted, picked up the pen and then wrote
While they was firing, you could hear sirens
From people dialing and women crying in the phone
I was in the zone, trying to make a living
Heading to work in the morning
Everyday 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 to termination
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 mama 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 wrapped 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, but 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 tryna sue me for my name
Shit insane, so berserk, never complained, I just work
Chasing after my dreams like them high school skirts
Back as a youngin, spitting game, tryna get the nut in
Living life to the fullest ’cause them little things ain’t nothing
My flow unkillable 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
Tryna 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
Both 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 wildin' out
But that pussy wet as hell, I think it’s time to end the drought
Then again 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 gon' be the song that they recite
What up?