Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Day I Was Born, artist - Louis Logic. Album song Alcohol/Ism, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 08.11.2004
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Brick
Song language: English
The Day I Was Born |
| Ah, so hmm… let me see… Very interesting |
| (The Odd Couple!) |
| I see your hobbies are drinking, smoking weed and all types of ill shit |
| Yo bust this, I spit from the love in my heart |
| And trust this, them spits’ll be up on the charts |
| So when it’s time for the rumble to start |
| My subtle remarks get up in your head and make you crumble apart |
| I spit a couple of bars then MCs disappear |
| One rhyme is worth more than what you gross in a fiscal year |
| My fist appears after two sips of beer and a 50 Smirnoff |
| Guaranteed to knock your lips and hands off |
| I took a placement test after two years of a school on a |
| And scored as a space cadet |
| I break cassettes lyrical face of death |
| Shot a dealer I ain’t payed yet to erase the debt |
| Blazing all the cess cause I got it for free |
| Now every dealer on my block is like «You're not copping from me!» |
| My pops dropped in the sea like garbage man, dropping debris |
| Now pro life has got a problem with me |
| With no diapers I’m shitting on the hottest MCs |
| I’m like a ghost writer |
| A player who’s not in the league |
| And consequently, that means I’m over top of the trees |
| And watching from a chopper like the Compton police |
| Approximately, too hot for some black number 3 |
| Without my dick I made a bitch drop to her knees |
| Got it on lock with a key |
| It’s Logic and me |
| We spit the real hip-hop |
| Not what you watch on TV |
| I spend a long time drinking, a short time thinking, I’m just a short step from |
| my life-line shrinking |
| That’s why it ain’t much I won’t say in a song, because I started dying on the |
| day I was born |
| I spend a day or two puffed-up, a day as a drunk fuck, waiting for the day he |
| ain’t waking the fuck up |
| That’s why it ain’t much I won’t say in a song, because I started dying on the |
| day I was born |
| I’m a proud scrub and admittedly |
| My favorite shit’s waving at chicks from the cockpit of my man’s Infiniti |
| My holy trinity is beer sex and smokes |
| My Holy book contains humorous anecdotes and sexist jokes |
| A pure pervert who’s more covert than CIA |
| Spitting prescription forms so you’ll see it my way |
| I sleep in the day |
| Wake-up get weed on the way |
| Put the bid and press play I need a reason to stay |
| I write scriptures, developed into dark light pictures |
| I type vicious you bitches know who’s my guesses |
| Yeah I got a slight sickness for chicks in tight breaches |
| And swimmin' in 'em like vicious |
| So if they wish to seeing pictures of themselves on my next whack turner |
| pressing plan |
| They should get their chest enhanced or breast implants |
| I’m having sex with tramps in Guess jeans pants |
| Puffed the freshest plants now my ex is mad |
| Cause I step to 'em like «Can I get this dance ?» |
| Off to the mistress, some wives be stressed with cramps |
| I’m the best in the camp |
| Jason from crystal lake, with a twist of fate |
| I don’t flow I precipitate |
| And I initiate, and also, and watch you while you stuff the poison pasta in |
| your face |
| Taste the botulism, disgraceful communism, we’ll cum into your beer and take |
| the pot you piss in |