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 about 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 'til 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, 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 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)