[Intro: Logic & C Dot Castro]
Welcome everyone to the Sinatra spectacular
Yeah, yeah, you already know what it is
RattPack boy
Castro
Logic (Logic)
Sinatra
Real all the time
[Verse 1: Logic]
Yeah, pass the mic before I jack it like gore-tex
Bust like raw sex, rappers suck like vortex
The life of a Don- We living like kings, and killing our pawns
Boy, the seconds it’s on, don’t know where we going
I’m flowing and killing this shit from dusk til dawn
Just had sex with a Middle Eastern girl- The pussy was bomb
That last line made no sense like these rappers’ careers
But I make dollars, 'cause I’m all about the fiscal year
Yeah; you don’t like me? I’ll conjure up and summon all your fears
You wanna fight me? I’ll woop my own ass before you get here
Wanna write me? And tell me that my rhymes suck?
Bitch I don’t give a fuck, I’ll stab you in the gut, call it a tummy tuck
You can ask my ex, I bust quicker than two techs
Caressed by a kid with category 5 tourettes
In other words, I squeeze with ease, dot my I’s and cross my T’s
I’m a perfectionist; the lesson is fuck everyone assessing this
It’s hip-hop, not to be taken literally
However on the light of note I stayed with bills like Hillary
My flow convects, murder subjects with little respect
Best protect your neck, before you play my tape better inspect the deck
Fuck every other rapper forever ever forever since the dawn of time
Sike- I’m not that much of a dick when I rhyme
On another level like duplex, bust heads like suplex
Slaughter emcees then ask who’s next
Welcome everyone to the Sinatra spectacular
Yeah, yeah, you already know what it is
RattPack boy
Castro
Logic (Logic)
Sinatra
Real all the time
[Verse 1: Logic]
Yeah, pass the mic before I jack it like gore-tex
Bust like raw sex, rappers suck like vortex
The life of a Don- We living like kings, and killing our pawns
Boy, the seconds it’s on, don’t know where we going
I’m flowing and killing this shit from dusk til dawn
Just had sex with a Middle Eastern girl- The pussy was bomb
That last line made no sense like these rappers’ careers
But I make dollars, 'cause I’m all about the fiscal year
Yeah; you don’t like me? I’ll conjure up and summon all your fears
You wanna fight me? I’ll woop my own ass before you get here
Wanna write me? And tell me that my rhymes suck?
Bitch I don’t give a fuck, I’ll stab you in the gut, call it a tummy tuck
You can ask my ex, I bust quicker than two techs
Caressed by a kid with category 5 tourettes
In other words, I squeeze with ease, dot my I’s and cross my T’s
I’m a perfectionist; the lesson is fuck everyone assessing this
It’s hip-hop, not to be taken literally
However on the light of note I stayed with bills like Hillary
My flow convects, murder subjects with little respect
Best protect your neck, before you play my tape better inspect the deck
Fuck every other rapper forever ever forever since the dawn of time
Sike- I’m not that much of a dick when I rhyme
On another level like duplex, bust heads like suplex
Slaughter emcees then ask who’s next
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