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(Funkmaster Flex) Oh, we gotta fuckin' flick the camera on and shit (Funkmaster Flex) Let it spin around and see the room (Funkmaster Flex) We should literally put that shit right here and just let it spin Around the room, you know what I mean? But, anyways Yo, I come rough, tough like an elephant tusk I'm that motherfucker Tarantino, Dawn Till Dusk Hit the homie Mac Demarco, like "What up, my man?" I need some raw shit and he recommended the tuscan I'm talkin' hip-hop shit straight to tape He did the Salad Days demos on it and it sounded great Any real musician listenin' can rеlate I feel like the RZA rеcording in '88 Prince Rakim, I fuckin' blow like Herashim' I'm on the scene, never flippin' scripts like a pharmacist I am quite the opposite, talk shit, get hit quick Give a fuck what you talkin' 'bout, y'all can suck my dick This that DOOM shit, J. Dilla, Madlib, MadGic comin' soon, shit I get the pussy wetter than her masseuse hit, y'all Ayo, ayo, y'all play games, more cap, I don't cap I do this for the love of hip-hop, I don't rap Open up your chest like the immense slide Who the best? Don't give a fuck but don't test my mic It's Logic Letras de canciones Haha, ayo-yo, I rips it hardcore like porno flick bitches Passin' like turntables, beatbox and floppy biscuits A young Tom movin' with me and it's risky business I delivered more gangsta to game than Father Christmas is Like a yellow jacket, teens with those little ratches Spin your head back like you taste scratch up out the scratches Smack defamer, the rappers say what brings, decapitate you Leave your cow stain like Gerico activator Sold blow, sold drank, voice blow like cold drink Boomerang it back to the track, push your hair back You need more than Rogaine, no pain, no game Like Patti LaBelle say, but me and Logic, no thing Vinyl Days, Vinyl Days leave your mind astray Even with application maps, they can't find a way Blah, the pure hip-hop tracks, Marty Mall, Biz Markie BDP, Eric B., Kool G Rap, and Large B, please, ha From Letras Mania