| Uh, yeah, outside I can hear 'em bussin', bussin'
|
| And the police they rushin'
|
| Go to my head like concussion
|
| I’d rather not have this discussion
|
| My mind racing for the elevation of the toxic in my blood
|
| Where my mind, don’t know now
|
| But I know where it was
|
| I need Nikki, where is Nikki?
|
| Baby girl, please come and get me
|
| Now I’m old and shit is trippy, but I know that God is with me
|
| This that baby mama drama
|
| Give a fuck about a man, I know I’ma
|
| Be there for my son, talking with my sister, it begun
|
| End of the month, that’s the worst of the month
|
| But the first of the month put the weed in the blunt
|
| That welfare check, check
|
| Won’t ever bounce like my daddy did
|
| But I’m glad he did 'cause it made me strong
|
| Made me help somebody with this song
|
| Paint the picture of my life
|
| Growing up what it was like
|
| Section 8, grab a plate
|
| Food for thought, gravitate
|
| Food stamps, Social Services tryna take me away
|
| My mama locked up, I pray to God that I see her today
|
| Maybe not, maybe so; |
| West Deer Park, that’s all I know
|
| Just me and my homies, people that know me
|
| Only ones that know
|
| Around my way (Around my way)
|
| Living day by day (Living day by day)
|
| Corn rows and hang time, automatics and gang signs
|
| Five-O with them K-9's
|
| Manhunt when it’s game time
|
| They was robbing the ice cream man in broad day
|
| Now I’m running from the police
|
| Don’t know how, but I got away
|
| Selling weed to my homies
|
| And a girl in the building that know me
|
| At 15, such a fiend, for the shit, that I seen
|
| All my homies smoking green, fucking bitches, sipping lean
|
| It was king, it was cool, seemed like something I should do
|
| Such a youngin, such a fool
|
| Now I’m breaking into school
|
| 'Cause my homie told me to
|
| What to do, what would you?
|
| When will I lose my anonymity
|
| And become one with the enemy?
|
| Tell me, would I be the enemy?
|
| Feel like nobody in front of me
|
| I can feel the vibe
|
| Bobby, what are you thinking?
|
| What are you dreaming about?
|
| Bobby, what’s inside?
|
| What are you thinking right now?
|
| What are you thinking?
|
| Go to sleep
|
| I guess maybe I was thinking things would be different now
|
| 'Cause when I wake up, my dreams fade
|
| Everything cascade
|
| In this vanilla sky, I feel like David Aames
|
| Why must I open my eyes?
|
| I wish I could stay asleep forever
|
| Attain every goal I wanted and watch it repeat forever
|
| Will it happen? |
| Maybe never
|
| Maybe so, I got to know—but tell me why, uh
|
| I picture myself at the top but I know that I’m dreaming
|
| Will I wake up before I finally confront all my demons?
|
| Maybe not—All I know is this life I live
|
| I can’t live it no longer
|
| Wish I was stronger, wish that I could survive
|
| Turn on the TV, let it wash my brain
|
| Pretend that family’s my family to avoid the pain
|
| Hello children, how was school?
|
| It was good, how 'bout you?
|
| I love you (I love you son), I love mama too
|
| Are you ready for dinner?
|
| I’m able to set the table
|
| 'Till I snap out the fable when that TV turn off
|
| And I realize I’m back in hell
|
| (Bobby…)
|
| Logic has recorded 1700 songs in the span of his
|
| 10 years as an MC. |
| However, only just over
|
| 150 have been released to the public… |