Lyrics Resume - Molemen, Louis Logic

Resume

Yeah, yeah.
This is Louis fucking Logic
Coming through your speakers and
Your sound system with The Molemen
Yo, my man Panik laced the track for y’all
You better bounce like basketball
We on our own shit like cats and dogs
So check it out y’all, check it out y’all
Check it out, what?
I always get the job cause I know what to do
Unless the odds are good
They find out that I’m a jerk then I’m like «Fuck you too!»
I’m a much improved Superman, plus a lover too
With the ability to snatch your silly slut from under you
It’s such a wonderful life, being someone who writes
Of things that go bump in the night and make you run for your life
I like to hunt with a knife, capture and kill
One of the punks that you might find on the mic
Cause I slash rappers at will
My eyes act as a filter
To expose the pussy under your tough guy exterior
And
I spill guts with precision of a taxidermist
Who confessed to gun threats up in Catholic churches
That’s why my wax is worshiped in the States and abroad
My place is secured for the world’s most tasteless award
Cause the further I stray from the Lord
The more underground and hot
Because my sound will win Satan’s applause
You don’t know a man who can get the job done
Before the cops come with bulletproof vests and shotguns
You don’t know a man who can get the job done
Before a chicken’s pop comes home with his five sons
And you don’t know a man who can get the job done
And make the snot run from niggas noses when they sob, son
And y’all don’t know a man that’s doper than me
Cause by comparison, all others are hopeless MC’s
Y’all should know that I was qualified
To swallow lies and piss truth serum
Cause if Blue hear 'em, talking shit, do spear 'em
So get too near 'em and get sent on your way
The Heavenly Gates when my pens on my page, I meant what I say
Cause I lecture like Lieutenant Frank Slade
So expect that I can bless the mic
While juggling three pinless grenades
I’m well versed in disproving theory on 'The Bell Curve'
As Logic L serves on committees that expel herbs
Nerds need not apply
It’s one or two dudes that’ll tell you he can run with Lou
But first he gotta lie
Sure it’s somewhat true, I’ll probably die
But until the vodka dries and the joints are through
It’s probably not tonight
My shelf life’s longer than a bottle of Amstel Light
Held inside a very tight cooler that was well iced
I seldom write a verse that wouldn’t melt a mic
So when my phrase sets the stage ablaze
You see a fire engine’s welcome lights
So let’s just say that I got the freshest resume
Cause I could catch a case in any place and then escape
And get away riding Debo’s bike
Despite the fact that the type of stuff I write in raps
Police don’t like
And you could still catch a cop saying, «He's so nice»
I’ll never stop fighting back and I don’t need no mic
Cause I might just snatch a bullhorn right out of a squad car
And scream a rhyme so loud the sound waves scramble the OnStar
If any question remains, I use professional aim
And target the section of brain that kept it aflame
And test him again to see if he’s a non-believer
But I bet that he’s changed
When my songs coming through his mom’s receiver
I’m a non-achiever, I don’t have to try
I can hold two mics like chopsticks and catch a fly
So ask me why I’m making rap records
I’m liver than fuck
Want to know why you don’t
Ask yourself, «Why do I suck?»