| Alright for the real hip-hop mothafuckas, you know what I’m sayin'?
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| (Yeah yeah) Shout out to Bobby, my engineer
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| It’s a nice night in L. A
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| We’re recordin' this mixtape and shit, workin' on the album at the same time,
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| you know what I’m sayin'?
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| Visionary boy
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| Yeah yeah, uh, yeah, we gon' do it for 96' (yeah)
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| We gon' do it for hip-hop (yeah second renaissance type shit check it)
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| Who would have thought that painting pictures 'bout being broke
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| Would get me riches like dealing coke?
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| Like big brother used to do so we could stay afloat
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| I heard them guns outside my window, them gangsters would tote
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| Thought about the life I wanted, picked up the pen and then wrote
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| While they was firing, you could hear sirens
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| From people dialing and women crying in the phone
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| I was in the zone, trying to make a living
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| Heading to work in the morning
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| Everyday felt like I was mourning, as my dream was deceased
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| Until I quit my job, then my work ethic increased
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| Elevated to levels I ain’t ever seen
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| Stacking this cream, living the American dream now
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| I’m going crazy, I ain’t slept in days
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| Dreaming of Michael Jordan money like I slept in J’s
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| Always shouting out my team 'cause I get all the plays
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| But they the ones that motivate me on depressing days
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| See I’m from Maryland where cats draw gats like animation
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| From the smallest altercation, that can lead to termination
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| With a rapper on every corner, like the rest of the nation
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| Passing bars back and forth like legal examinations
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| As a youngin I was running wild
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| Me and my homies skipping school, puffing on that loud
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| Doing shit just to do it, 'cause we wasn’t allowed
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| I thought I understood the world, but I was still a child, yeah
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| Now when my mama was at home drinking, thinking 'bout the bills
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| I was dreaming 'bout the mills, running round looking for thrills
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| I guess this is how it feels when your memory spills onto the page
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| And paints a picture of another age
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| Back in West Deer Park, chilling with shorties after dark
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| ‘Cause when the sun is down, the police always want us down
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| ‘Til we get older and hustle, now they try’na gun us down
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| We just trying to make a living off of what we’ve been given
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| Wassup
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| Walk on by
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| Walk on by
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| Walk on
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| They call me Logic, yeah that’s L-O-G-I-C
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| I ain’t wrapped up in them bitches, I just write 'bout shit I see
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| ‘Cause these lyrics set me free, fuck the world, let me be
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| And when I feel like I can’t write, that’s when I hit the MPC
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| My talent limitless, but time limited so listen up
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| If you can’t see the shit I see, you better get your vision up
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| I’m the king, watch me reign, born to rule my domain
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| Album ain’t even in stores, they tryna sue me for my name
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| Shit insane, so berserk, never complained, I just work
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| Chasing after my dreams like them high school skirts
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| Back as a youngin, spitting game, tryna get the nut in
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| Living life to the fullest 'cause them little things ain’t nothing
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| My flow unkillable when I be murdering syllables
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| But I take my time, slow it down, check the rhyme
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| Perfectionist to the dime, from the womb to the tomb
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| I be rapping 'til I’m dying, doing everything I love
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| That’s the life of a don, skipping school, sipping liquor
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| Tryna get this money quicker, bad bitches, good weed
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| That’s the type of shit I need
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| Lyrics bleed from my mind state
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| Elevate my mind and watch it rise like the crime rate
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| ‘Cause sometimes I be high, and sometimes I be low
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| And sometimes I do shit I thought I’d never do before
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| My life is like a movie role that’s starring me, got these women on me
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| I hit the club with all my homies, and the drinks is on me
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| At the crib with the shorty that I met at the spot
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| Pretty eyes, nice lips, Grey Goose what she sips
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| Both my hands on her hips, 'til she puts them on her tits
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| Freak bitch want the dick, biting on her finger tip
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| I only fuck with nice girls, I never do this type of shit
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| I’m thinking 'bout hitting it raw, shit I must be wildin' out
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| But that pussy wet as hell, I think it’s time to end the drought
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| Then again she could be burning, and that’s not what I’m about
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| So I dipped out, to live another day and die another night
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| ‘Cause when I’m gone that ain’t gon' be the song that they recite
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| What up? |