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[Intro] Yeah, yeah. This is Louis fucking Logic Coming through your speakers and Your sound system with The Molemen Yo, my man Panik laced the track for y'all You better bounce like basketball We on our own shit like cats and dogs So check it out y'all, check it out y'all Check it out, what? [Verse One] I always get the job cause I know what to do Unless the odds are good They find out that I'm a jerk then I'm like "Fuck you too!" I'm a much improved Superman, plus a lover too With the ability to snatch your silly slut from under you It's such a wonderful life, being someone who writes Of things that go bump in the night and make you run for your life I like to hunt with a knife, capture and kill One of the punks that you might find on the mic Cause I slash rappers at will My eyes act as a filter To expose the pussy under your tough guy exterior And [?] I spill guts with precision of a taxidermist Who confessed to gun threats up in Catholic churches That's why my wax is worshiped in the States and abroad My place is secured for the world's most tasteless award Cause the further I stray from the Lord The more underground and hot Because my sound will win Satan's applause [Hook] You don't know a man who can get the job done Before the cops come with bulletproof vests and shotguns You don't know a man who can get the job done Before a chicken's pop comes home with his five sons And you don't know a man who can get the job done And make the snot run from niggas noses when they sob, son And y'all don't know a man that's doper than me Cause by comparison, all others are hopeless MC's [Verse Two] Y'all should know that I was qualified To swallow lies and piss truth serum Cause if Blue hear 'em, talking shit, do spear 'em So get too near 'em and get sent on your way The Heavenly Gates when my pens on my page, I meant what I say Cause I lecture like Lieutenant Frank Slade So expect that I can bless the mic While juggling three pinless grenades I'm well versed in disproving theory on 'The Bell Curve' As Logic L serves on committees that expel herbs Nerds need not apply It's one or two dudes that'll tell you he can run with Lou But first he gotta lie Sure it's somewhat true, I'll probably die But until the vodka dries and the joints are through It's probably not tonight My shelf life's longer than a bottle of Amstel Light Held inside a very tight cooler that was well iced I seldom write a verse that wouldn't melt a mic So when my phrase sets the stage ablaze You see a fire engine's welcome lights [Hook] [Verse Three] So let's just say that I got the freshest resume Cause I could catch a case in any place and then escape And get away riding Debo's bike Despite the fact that the type of stuff I write in raps Police don't like And you could still catch a cop saying, "He's so nice" I'll never stop fighting back and I don't need no mic Cause I might just snatch a bullhorn right out of a squad car And scream a rhyme so loud the sound waves scramble the OnStar If any question remains, I use professional aim And target the section of brain that kept it aflame And test him again to see if he's a non-believer But I bet that he's changed When my songs coming through his mom's receiver I'm a non-achiever, I don't have to try I can hold two mics like chopsticks and catch a fly So ask me why I'm making rap records I'm liver than fuck Want to know why you don't Ask yourself, "Why do I suck?" [Hook]