Homicide Song Lyrics by Logic
Son, you know why you the greatest alive?Why, Dad?Because you came out of my balls, niggaHahahaha
Fuck rap, bustin’ like an addict with a semi-automaticWho done had it, and he ready for anybody to buck backHold up, catch a vibe, ain’t no way in hell we leavin’ nobody aliveLeave a suicide note, fuck thatBobby feelin’ villainous, he killin’ thisI’m comin’ for your man and his lady and even the babyI’m feelin’ like I’m chicka-chicka-chicka Slim Shady with rabies
I’m foamin’ at the mouth, ain’t nobody takin’ me outEvery single rapper in the industry, yeah, they know what I’m aboutAnd I dare you to test me‘Cause not a single one of you motherfuckers impress meAnd maybe that’s a little bit of an exaggeration, but I’m full of innovationAnd I’m tired of all of this high school, “He’s cool, he’s not” rap shitCan a single one of you motherfuckers even rap? ShitNo, this ain’t a diss to the game, it’s a gas to the flameNowadays, everybody sound the same, shit’s lameLike a moth to the flame, I’ma reel ’em in and kill ’emKnow you feelin’ lyricism when I’m spillin’ it, I’m feelin’ myselfYeah, yeah, Bobby Boy, he be feelin’ himselfMass murder like this can’t be good for my healthWhen I rap like this, do I sound like shit?Well, it don’t really matter, ’cause I’m killin’ this shitYeah, I’m killin’ this shitOh yeah, oh yeah, I’m killin’ this shitBobby, how many times you been killin’ this shit?Find another rhyme, goddamn, nigga, shit
Fuck rap, bustin’ like an addict with a semi-automaticWho done had it, and he ready for anybody to buck backHold up, catch a vibe, ain’t no way in hell we leavin’ nobody aliveLeave a suicide note, fuck thatBobby feelin’ villainous, he killin’ thisI’m comin’ for your man and his lady and even the babyI’m feelin’ like I’m chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka Slim Shady
There’s nowhere to hide, we call this shit genocideHit ’em with that (doot, doot, doot) and they dieWe gon’ leave ’em crucified, we call this shit genocideI got bitches, I got hoes, I got rare designer clothesNo, we ain’t fuckin’ with thatYeah, there’s a time and a place, but if you ain’t comin’ with the illest of rapsCallin’ yourself the greatest aliveThen you don’t deserve to do thatNo, no, oh no, no, please do not do thatYou gon’ get smacked, you gon’ make Bobby attackYou gon’ make Bobby Boy snapYou gon’ make Bobby Boy snap (Bobby Boy!)
Fuck rap, bustin’ like an addict with a semi-automaticWho done had it, and he ready for anybody to buck backHold up, catch a vibe, ain’t no way in hell we leavin’ nobody aliveLeave a suicide note, fuck thatBobby feelin’ villainous, he killin’ thisI’m comin’ for your man and his lady and even the babyI’m feelin’ like I’m chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka Slim Shady
Jigga-jigga-jigga-jigga-jigga like Jay-ZJig is up, you fuckers who didn’t write anythingAre getting washed now, chicka-chicka-chicka, like bathingYoung Hova, I know hitters like YankeesGun toters that pull triggers like crazyUnloadin’, leave you shot up in your RoverYour body goes limp and slumps overLike A-Rod in a month lull, but he just homered
Hold up, I said Rover because now your Rover is redLike Red Rover, so you know what I meantBut I roll over my opponents insteadMakin’ dog sounds ’cause I gotta keep breakin’ these bars downI’ll go slow for the spedsBut when I go (roof) like the doberman saidI still think the (roof) would go over your head (haha)Beast mode, motherfuckers ’bout to get hit with so many foul linesYou think I’m a free throwFigured it was about time for people to eat crowYou about to get out-rhymed, how could I be dethroned?I stay on my toes like the repo, a behemoth in sheep clothesFrom the East Coast to the West, I’m the ethos and I’m the G.O.A.TWho the best? I don’t gotta say a fuckin’ thing, though, ’cause MC’s know
But you don’t wanna hear me spit the factsYour shit is ass like a tailboneAnd you’re trapped in your cell phoneOn my chicken scratch, or my self-loatheI don’t want to fuckin’ listen to you spit your rap someone else wroteUsed to get beat up by the big kidsUsed to let the big kids steal my big wheelAnd I wouldn’t do shit but just sit stillNow money’s not a big dealI’m rich, I wipe my ass with six mil’Big bills like a platypusA caterpillar’s comin’ to get the cannabisI’m lookin’ for the smoke but you motherfuckers are scatterin’Batterin’ everything and I’ve had it with the inadequateMan, I can see my dick is standin’ stiff as a mannequinAnd I’m bringin’ the bandana back, and the fuckin’ headband againA handkerchief and I’m thinkin’ of bringin’ the fuckin’ fingerless gloves backAnd not giving a singular fuck, like fuck rap
I sound like a fuckin’ millionaireWith the Derringer with a hair trigger‘Bout to bear hug it, fuckin’ terrier, the Ric Flair dripperY’all couldn’t hold a candle at a prayer vigilWhen I vent, they compare me to a fuckin’ air ductI’m about to bare knuckle it, nah, fuck itI’m gonna go upside their head with a Nantucket, abraca-fuckin’-dabraThe track is the blood, I’m attracted, I’m attackin’ itWhat? Dracula, fuck that shitI’m up, back with a thudMan, stop
Look what I’m plannin’, plannin’, I’m plannin’ toDo all this while you panickin’And you’re lookin’ and starin’ at mannequinsAnd I’m goin’ to Fanagan’s, tryin’ to get up a plan againstAll of the blana-kazana-ka-fam-bam-bannigansWhile of all the bana-kazanika Hanna in a cabanaYou’re in a cabI’m in a cabana and a JanetI’m in a cabana chantin’ all this stand up banterWhile you don’t got the stamina, you’re lackin’ the staminaYou’re lackin’ the stamina while you’re divorcin’ Harrison FordAnd I’m in a Porsche on the floor boardsWhile I’m world tourin’You usin’ way too many napkins, papkins, lapkins and chapkiYou using ChapStick and napkins while I’m papkin’Flappin’ around like a bapkin’Flammina babbita playin’ a jampkinDammit, a can of pa