[Intro]
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You—you, you
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You—you, you, you, you, you
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You, you—you
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You—you, you, you, you, you
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You—you, you, you, you, you
~#**************#~
You, you—you
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You—you, you, you, you, you
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Warm it up, warm it up
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Warm it up, warm it up, warm it up
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Warm it up, warm it up
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Warm it up, warm it up, warm it up
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[Verse 1: Logic as Young Sinatra]
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Its that Young Sinatra shit, yeah, thats that Young Sinatra shit
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Shut the fuck up and listen whenever Young Sinatra spit
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Yeah, your girl fine as hell but she a Young Sinatra chick
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Hey Bobby, how can you tell? She on the Young Sinatra dick
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All these rappers wack as fuck, make the Young Sinatra sick
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RattPack be the squad, thats that Young Sinatra clique
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Goddamn, said this the Young Sinatra clique, goddamn!
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Listen, yeah—I’m visualizing the realism of life in actuality
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Step to me, fatality; yeah, this shit is my galaxy
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I am who the baddest be, Id rather be at the academy
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Killers, Im be glad to be me, magnify the shit like bifocal
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Motherfuckers talk on the internet, but in person they never vocal
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Come to the hood and fuck you up if you prefer to be local
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Im loco from Noho to Soho
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Gettin cheese like a photo, you know, ho
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Im blessed like Sunday, flyer than a runway
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Lil Bobby never second-guessed that he gon make it one day
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One–way or another, my brother, word to your mother
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They should give me a badge cause Im always under covers
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Goddamn! Im a miraculous man!
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You know I get, I get it, I get it, I get it
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The Young Sinatra spit it, rewind it, and rip it
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I could murder your whole album with a 30-second snippet
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Pass the Mary Jane like Im runnin a train with Peter Parker
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On tour, I have more sex in the city than Sarah Jessica Parker
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The deeper and deeper I go, it get darker
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They say they want the old me, they want the Young Sinatra back
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The one that murder it, rip it up, no, never givin up round the almanac
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Yeah, Im all of that, fall back, like September again
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Bashin these rappers so hard they wont remember again
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When it comes to hip-hop, bitch, Im indigenous to this
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Its apparent Im bearin down like a parent
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When the beef is at stake, Im Mastros
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My god-level lyricism surpass flows, Im much more than fast flows
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Money, talk, cash knows, greatest of levels–Ive passed those
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[Chorus: Logic as Bobby Tarantino]
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Fuck that rap shit, this that trap shit (Bobby!)
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This world is my contraption (Bobby!)
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I was born and raised in the trap, son (Bobby!)
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Talk shit, get kidnapped, son (Bobby!)
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I dont really know why I rap, son (ay!)
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Money in the bank, yeah, I got some (ay!)
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Couple sports cars, yeah, I bought some (ay!)
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Logic never flex, Bobby get it done! (ay!)
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Yeah, yall dont really know where I come from (come now)
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Talkin that shit, Ima come for em (whats good?)
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Tell me what you really know about me right now
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Anything I want, I get it somehow
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[Verse 2: Logic as Young Sinatra]
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Fuck that trap shit, this that rap shit
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Give me the head like John the Baptist
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Ready to rip it, I hope in the captives
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Greatest alive like Im Cassius
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I put em all in they caskets, they cant seem to get past it
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Im a bastard that mastered the flow
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And none of yall ready for the massacre, though
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Fuck with Logic? Yeah, thats a no
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Matter of fact, its not impossible, just highly improbable
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Like, saying the police isnt robbable
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But Im liable to walk up in the station in blue-face
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Like, “Fuck the police!”—Blue lives aint a race
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Fuck whoever said this rap shit was never a race
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This shit a marathon
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Murder you motherfuckers and carry on
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Claimin that you really bout this shit
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You got your Jim Carrey on—
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Liar Liar; I might crucify ya
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Number one till I die, will never retire
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I am the Messiah, I am the god of this shit
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This is how we do it—yeah, I started this shit
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Yes, I started this shit like–
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[Chorus: Logic as Bobby Tarantino]
~#**************#~
Fuck that rap shit, this that trap shit (Bobby!)
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This world is my contraption (Bobby!)
~#**************#~
I was born and raised in the trap, son (Bobby!)
~#**************#~
Talk shit, get kidnapped, son (Bobby!)
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I dont really know why I rap, son (ay!)
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Money in the bank, yeah, I got some (ay!)
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Couple sports cars, yeah, I bought some (ay!)
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Logic never flex, Bobby get it done! (ay!)
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Yeah, yall dont really know where I come from (come now)
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Talkin that shit, Ima come for em (whats good?)
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Tell me what you really know about me right now
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Anything I want, I get it somehow
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[Outro]
~#**************#~
You—you, you
~#**************#~
You—you, you, you, you, you
~#**************#~
You, you—you
~#**************#~
You—you, you, you, you, you
~#**************#~
You—you, you, you, you, you
~#**************#~
You, you—you
~#**************#~
You—you, you, you, you, you
