| Louis Logic, J.J. | 
| Brown
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| Back up in this motherfucker (yo, yo)
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| Before you even knew
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| Be prepared when the clock strikes, we ignite these hot mics
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| To heat up the spot like bauxite
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| Snatchin' the spotlight from those who don’t deserve it
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| When you want the set wrecked, my bros is at your service
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| Be careful what you ask for, the chaos’ll be extreme enough
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| To warrant a FEMA task force
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| For a damage assessment, batten down the blast doors
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| You had your chance to study up, these here is the crash course
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| Down to the last straw, we take cats that were passed off as emcees
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| And strip their masks off, the black Isaac Asimov
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| My sci-fi imagination is so sick you’ll need vaccination
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| Causin' exasperation (Damn!) and scientists tryin' to find a cure
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| Failin', cause the toxin’s so pure and I’m so sure
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| Of the venom Randy’s droppin'
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| That each record comes with a vial of anti-toxin
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| R-Son…in your sector… Louis Logic… cocaine with words
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| Verified… the question is this… you wanna battle?
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| Jay scratch the wax… R-Son, in your sector
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| Louis Logic, cocaine with words… verified
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| Yeah, real logic and reason… like this, yo, yo
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| Back in part one, R-Son left you far from stardom
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| Now it’s bar-none, I’m tryna leave you locked up in a car trunk
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| With large lumps on your dome like the Epcot Center
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| Many a venomous snake skates once the despot enters (Here ye, here ye)
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| The ruler in charge, cooler than Arctic snowstorms
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| Louis is artistic, this is bully your squad with no horns
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| Clothes torn like you’re in a schoolyard grudge match
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| With two hard thug brats who aim to take your lunch bag
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| And once back on Memory Lane, you’ll get chased
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| By the dude in the dunce cap who never gets blamed
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| So save the judge act for Mills Lane, I never arraign
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| Though I’m more able than the man who killed Cain to spill shame
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| I will maim your respect, will place you in check
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| I will strangle your neck, and you’ll still bang my cassette
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| And I ain’t threatenin', that’s just how it is
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| You need to be more like Mrs. Markie and get the fuck out the Biz
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| Uh, yo yo check it out, yo
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| When I’m comin' down the home stretch, sudden death rules in effect
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| With no rep', that’s the type of fight that you can expect
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| Cause I’m flier than stupid insects, ya’ll bang on the ground
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| So if you’re still hangin' around it’s with a noose on your neck
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| If the prospect of lynchin' causes tension on the surface
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| The purpose of this word is to make you nervous
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| And when the paranoia sets in, it’ll make your head spin
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| Clairvoyantly reading your thoughts like Kreskin
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| And I got a plan for your dissection and a fresh blade scissor
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| To remove your breastplate quicker
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| Understand I could kill y’all with a rhyme
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| So you best wait, mister
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| I’m still strong in the mind like an ex-weight lifter
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| The best shape shifter can’t mimic this
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| The power of logic and reason combined is limitless
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| That’s why we left behind witnesses, to remind innocents
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| In our presence, the ones who survived are the penitent
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| Yeah, yeah yeah, so if you didn’t know, now you know
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| (Now y’all motherfuckers know)
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| Motherfuckin' Louis Logic up in this bitch
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| (The original Shadow Cabinet)
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| You’re man R-Son, aight, takin' this motherfucker over
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| I been tellin' y’all niggas, it’s time to take this game a little more serious
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| Yo, J.J. | 
| Brown on the motherfuckin' boards
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| (Comin' through in your sleep, comin' through in your memory, it’s like that,
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| what?) |