Roll Call

[Verse 1] Yeah, smoking in London while the snow fall In another country so pardon me for the roll call Damn, who would've thought the fan base was this immense On the first fucking train to Paris so pardon my french Shows sold out, fans in line even though it's cold out Yeah, touring Europe getting swiss cheese Many said I'd never attain it now I'm like, "bitch please, what up?" Allow me to open up the verse with something so diverse Now let the flow immerse, hold up; watch it disperse Visions of Biggie, Big L and 2Pac just looking at me (Biggie) From the gates of Heaven while the police booking at me Open your mental while bitches give me brain with no dental Y'all probably think I'm crazy for touching this instrumental Shout out my cousin Ego, he know this shit's sentimental Been doing this shit for my dogs, holding down the kennel My ex hit me talkin bout she wanna make up But on the real, I got no time for cover girls Music is my main bitch, no time for other girls I'm finna blow like Hiroshima, my demeanor get meaner Watch me elevate to arenas Me without the mic, that's like Martin without the Gina, Venus without Serena Now these thirsty bitches on the dick, we call that Aquafina I used to bus tables until them tables turned And everything I have obtained is everything I've earned And everything I rap about is everything I've learned So hopefully the listener can position a situation where they don't get burned And they can learn from my mistakes, like I've learned from the greats To do whatever it takes, for Heaven's sakes open your mind This shit's one of a kind, elegant and refined, irrelevant to the swine What's the deal? Whipping through LA in the coupe de Ville, on the real To various people I do appeal, because of skill So this the type of shit I'm gon keep making That make MCs break fast like flapjacks and bacon Rest in peace to BIG, and many other fallen soldiers Never Hollywood, I'm grounded like a cup of Folgers, bitch I told ya Allow me to open up your mind and mold ya Indulge ya, within this shit I call the second Renaissance The system broke and they sent Logic in for maintenance Cause all you wack rappers couldn't break change to make sense I'm back again with another argument about how much I'm black again Fighting for credibility from the lack of blacker skin It's kind of funny how your pigment determines how people perceive you That's ignant Ain't seen my momma in a minute Cause growing up she called me a nigger That would never amount to nothing Racism from my own momma, left home cause of drama But I can make it in the rap game, look at Obama You ain't been in my shoes, you don't know my story You don't know what's in store, but bitch I stocked the inventory Fuck a critic with the balls to try to tell me how I feel You wasn't with me as a child Never once did you feel the pain of my stomach That manifested from the lack of meals Headed to the soup kitchen on foot by the lack of wheels We aim to keep it real And hell no we ain't never missing Came a long way from eating when government gave permission If you think these lyrics ain't deep, you too stupid to listen Just an outkast with a mission to spit to whoever listen Bitch it's Logic!