Lyrics 94 Logo Blur - Alexander Spit, Chuck Inglish

94 Logo Blur

This that spit, that old fashioned flow
Pocket full of dirty C notes like old Cassio
I’m on patio so pick the rings to match the glow
Grabbing on that ravioli slow, winning back a jones
They see through the kitchen to the alley where that Jeeps park
Probably we alone ‘cause getting social with them street smarts
I show these beautiful arts to his body art
These other bitches be lurking till they got your heart
Learned a long time ago to never trust a sharing stone
Spot her in a Vegas casino then leave her there alone
I got the sirens screaming at me when I’m baritone
Whiling in that motherfucking…
A real rapper’s pulse match the metronome
I’m a bad boy but never combed my prop with a Diddy comb
It’s all praise to the kids to get their city known
Somebody get in this verse, I bet y’all feeling dome
I’m looking at these rap cats like nice
They looking like they fitted to work only fall back
And all the sudden it’s fashion, we wearing all black
What, no comma there unless you rocking for Johnny Cash
I make music with that ambiance and zombie laps
I’m Tarantino with my ladies feed all on the dash
I tell ‘em cue the strengths, I tell ‘em cue the brass
Our solo act, the curtains drop, homie, do the math
Got there with the… wardrobe 94 logo blur
Get up
Got there with the… wardrobe 94 logo blur
Get up
Got there with the… wardrobe 94 logo blur
Get up
Got there with the… wardrobe 94 logo blur
Get up
The art pitching flame, we done switched the lanes
Only property… like it’s a game
But it’s the stage, wrote the books, no pay
And in the new crib burn sage
As I stepped on the scene my whole mind stay changed
Crème brulee flambé in the amphibious way
She moves in mysterious ways… just get in the way
Standing on the beach, a wave capping my fate
I don’t use recipes ‘cause I know how it’s made
Today I don’t stunt on y’all, real talk, that’s the day I lost
I can’t afford that cost, my accountant called, I can’t afford that, dog