Lyrics:
prolly won't get rich
Won't sex that chick won't go platinum
Prolly make an album and quit
And you know you got child
Support running on stage
"Where my
Yeah
Feels good to be home baby
Album of the motherfucking year you hear me
Yeah
Welcome to the sorrow
I can feel the changes
Walking down
Feels like I'm stuck inside a maze
But there's no dead ends just graves
I come from dead ends surrounded by graves
Some of those graves are my mates
Cats get served, running up sliced
Every single night and that the way we keep it right
Like that fuckers... (YEAH)
I'm just trickin though,
applications
Shit I like to rhyme and I won a battle or two
Down at the PAC with the crew the kid from broward can duel
Yeah he got a few filler lines
By now
yeah
Baby Benz logo on the windshield wipers
And I got two possession charges
For a pistol license
Weed trappers running out they building
When I get
sense of the madness
I don't process things when they happen
Push it aside, then months gone by
Before I let go of a small interaction
I cannot write
hard to keep
My head straight
It's like trying to go up but held down by deadweight
Walk on land, stay interesting
Nine albums dropped and I can't
an album by myself without feature to spit
And still feature my shit, it's only me and my bitch
All eyes on me, that classic Tupac shit
Now can I get
number
I hit em back like who dis, what the fuck can I do for ya?
I'm exhausted by people
Haunted by evil
Lost in my thoughts while y'all watch through
Yes, 32 the album out right now
Love for the love fire in the Booth
Wrote this in the country
I was staring at horses
It's kinda nice to be still
can
Glock 23, I'll give a opp his last dance
You ain't gotta ask me where
I'm at, it's the Lab, man
I can feel the fucking GOAT
Running through my DNA
"Ayy
We want you to do a video for beats by Dre"
I thought, "Shit, this must be my day, "
Let me set it off
So flylingual and swagnificently fresh
I've
what they know me by
Logic what they call me
Gotta catch a flight but the
Fans wanna stall me
Life of a don, chain just glowin'
Always in the lab with
Alright they wanna'
Test the team it's Devz and G
Running up on sets and squeeze
Rest in peace to the best of G's, testing me
Can't stop what I'm
It's like this and like that and like this
I try to put my Anger to the pen instead of fists
I'm never giving in, I gotta Take This World By Storm
Until
Class Wreckin Cru
I'm still at it
After-mathematics
In the home of drive-by's and ak-matics
Swap meets, sticky green, and bad traffic
I dip through then I
the shoe fit me I’m the new Biggie blowing smoke in coupe with roof fizzing
Running through the city when I
They be looking like who is he, am the one
Give
the past
Say we kick it off and try to run it back
Thinking she rushing the way I have her running back
Nah, I'm just thinking too much I'm probably tripping
Hopping off my plane, finna grab my bag
Running on my main, 'bout to jump in the cab
She always be late, and she saying she trying to drive fast
I walked through the door with you, the air was cold
Something 'bout it felt like home somehow, and I
Left my scarf there at your sister's house
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