Uh (yo) Uh (yeah) Uh (listen up) Uh (the old Logic, yeah) Uh, uh (listen up), uh (the old Lo—) Ayy, yo, I'll chop you up in sixteen pieces in front of your nieces While I'm eating Reese's and won't even offer them any Yes, I spit plenty, this is East Coast flow at its finest In the studio where you find us, put a bullet where your spine is At sixteen, I was skipping school and smoking chronic While you was learning 'bout English, Big L was teaching Ebonics I spit fire so demonic, writing code like I'm masonic A Jedi master breaking shit down like old plaster No medication for this track 'cause this is how a psycho rips My bank account is like casino vaults, your pockets microchips, uh Motherfucker, I dare you to test it, hope you're well-rested, whoop your ass and get arrested In a double-breasted Louis Vuitton diamond encrusted tailor-made suit Now that's All Sinatra Everything I explode like hollow tips on contact Chronologically murder schmoe, there's no bringing Joe back Puffing Cubans and sipping Cognac Mafietic mentality, introduce me to this beat and it's fatality I kill mics like Conrad Murray Sharp like Hanzo Steel, the rest is obtuse I get loose when sipping Goose and rhyme like Doc' Seuss Flow tight like noose, whoop ass like Bruce, no time for a truce Alphabetical mathematic addict I spit sixteens so erratic you think it was a semi-automatic I know by now you thinking: Oh my God, he let them have it But that was just a loan, time to collect like I'm Capone Reap what I've sown, in other words that is the throne Chilling while homies smoking marijuan' If you thinking that this shit is wack, well, then you're dead wrong 'Cause for every emotion and every mood, I have a song For the club, for the streets, for the whip and for the sheets 'Cause this is where intellect and versatility meets I'm Young Sinatra, backstage chilling with Bobby-soxers I got ya The old Logic The old Logic (now, this is what you are) The old Logic (listen up) The old Logic Thirty-five is awesome, but he closer to the coffin Quit vaping and stop coughing, rest in peace to the villain, I'm Andy Kaufman Foot on the gas, niggas mad 'cause I pass, Black to the future In a cut like a suture, straight to the gut, kombucha Fuck a king, fuck her till she gape, then inseminate In great, tour bus state to state, we integrate Take fifteen-year-old vocals and then incorporate The same voice but a later day, nincompoop, just let the haters hate If you feel like it's no longer your house, then migrate Don't fight with 'em, do your best to find eyesight with 'em Speak out of turn, then I might hit him, his muse, it always write with him His right hand was fly like right wing End the rhyme with a joint from Spike Lee, yeah, let's do the right thing He might rage, he might bust out a six string and sing He's sick in the head 'cause old Logic is dead This is old Logic and old Logic on the same track instead Week to week, it's been a different peak, some might say it's weak No calendars, you fell off and went broke, and now ain't got no balances Uh, you never seen nothing, huh, like this thing Grab the pen and I'm gonna write this thing Fantastic Four, fantastic beats and where to find more Mother was a whore, prostitute galore Still made him do his chores, screaming at him with a mouth full of sores Low danger, goddamn, I hate anger Arrested development, from the plantation to the settlement Forty acres and a mule, what reparations? Fuck school It's just a pneumatic tool here, nomadic fools, Xanny bars until he drools Scared to fly, ride the carpool through the tunnel syndrome It's awfully disgusting, he's so old, he's rusting But young in life, pulled the trigger, take a youngin' life Gunfight with a knife, ugh, strife Phantom of the sins, so I'm Caesar to these chimps Who wants to die? Switch it up like a chick who was once a guy Me and my brothers writing Stay Fly" huh Grab the 45 caliber while it's busting Goddamn, this is Logic at thirty-five, it's so disgusting, uh-uh The old Logic The old Logic (now, this is what you are) The old Logic (listen up)