lirik lagu logic - concrete
[intro]
what up, what up!?
yeah, yeah!
hehehe
it’s that concrete sh-t, you know what i’m saying? you’ll be like yeahhh, you know what i’m saying?
word up
[verse 1]
ayo i think about the rap game
and hip-hop’s life state
it makes my blood pressure rise like maryland’s crime rate
rip through the city like the sense, of false virility
from cats that clutch gats and lock down the vicinity
a lyrical ent-ty, that hold it down and never pretend to be
something i’m not, like crush rocks and bust glock shots
but i’ve seen it, to the level where i began to fiend it
and now life is beckoned into reality, no need to dream it
i, step to the mic and rock heads like mount rushmore
raid the spot like cops catchin’ a dealer tryna flush more
down the drain, liquor down the hash to drown the pain
i surp-ss; sustain, solidified within its game
the king is dead, long live the king now watch me reign
spit fire that i obtain from leavin’ the dragon slain
my name is logic but you may know me as young sinatra
the cat that brought ya
if i may say the illest of verses
not yet cl-ssics but that will come as time disperses
back in the 90’s i was just a bad-ss kid
thank god for sparin’ my life and dogin’ a bid
west deer park after dark i rep to the death
gaithersburg high blastin music til i go deaf
ninth grade on the constant pursuit just to get laid
til’ i finally got some p-ssy now i’m trynna to get paid
sold a lil bit something slight like nickels and dimes
but i ain’t make enough, said f-ck it and stuck to the rhymes
as for my home situation, that sh-t was hard times
came up on my own blocked out the bad went into a zone
acknowledged what it was but never let it consume my chromosomes
on the phone at like sixteen with a lil hispanic hottie
body like a ducati the type to get naughty
now i’m twenty-one, older and wiser but i ain’t perfect
specially when that dark sh-t deep down hit the surface
and ignite the art, maintain speed rip it apart
f-ck a punchline this the sh-t you feel in your heart
a young black man camouflaged in the skin of another
when i converse with white folk, i feel like i’m undercover
just a brother, tryna make it in america
i need a window seat somebody call erykah
bars like this, cause m-ss hysteria
spread like malaria and quarintine your area
i squeeze at you emcees til you weese and bury ya
alive, like beatrix kiddo that’s a k!ll bill
sh-t now run it back and relive the riddle
what
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