[Cuts]
[Verse 1: Illogic]
Yeah
Cleaning my brushes, prepping the canvas
Strategic approach, no rushing the stanzas
The masterpieces, the master relinquish prime potency packed in consecutive releases
From Unforeseen, to Man Who Thinks, to Lucid Logic
Gifted, mystic, prolific lyric locksmith
You’re all out of options
I'm just hitting my stride
Diving into new disciplines, come along for the ride
Snapping photos, chopping samples, it's up a notch
Guide my helm through the realm of the Renaissance
It’s a hard drive to the gig
A bite of a sandwich is needеd when I surf on lines, casting my web
Crashing whoеver your band with
Left him for dead for disregarding the standards
Handed down from the mountaintop
I'm praying that these clowns will stop patty-caking
The beat pounds like the sound of a smack from a cinderblock
He pump faking, but I'm staying grounded
Pulling rabbits from habits, the crowd’s left astounded
They want that old Ill, that Got Lyrics, “1000 Whispers,” awkward flow Ill
But if you know Ill, every record I try to grow Ill
Progress is the measured way I show skill
Just know I’m cold still, below windchill, frost bitten
Stop giving these rappers passes for soft writtens like
[Cuts]
[Verse 2: Blueprint]
Don't lie to me, homie
Your life's below me
Your rhyme scheme and your crime scheme seem phony
Unlike these other guys whose rhymes seem boring
I'm constantly fresh like an IG story
My life seen glory and agony the same
You want to be underground, that can be arranged
I'll put you six feet underground in a grave, still in your gold grill and fake gold chains
The undertaker, storm shadow, thunder maker
I'm old school, but I never did the rump shaker
Playing ball the only time I'm a pump faker
Skip college if you ‘bout to choose a dumb major
You can probably learn more from your boy verse
So don't waste that money, give it to your boy first
Just kidding, man, study what you like
Follow your passion, but make sure that you can pay your lights
[Cuts]
[Verse 3: Supastition]
When my emotions high, I scribe faster than most can multiply
24 x 36 poster boys get posterized, pulverized
One punch will blacken both of your eyes
Soldier for the resistance exposed to a culture of lies
I feel focused, still the mic skills ferocious
Some of y’all make me want to double my Nyquil dosage
Sometimes I question why I bother sharpening my talons
Why bother sparring or arguing with bargain bin talent?
Illogic, Supa and Print, we sergeants of this battalion
We pump up the volume, no, we don’t pump Valium
The next time you’re toasting, I’m hoping your limousine flip
Your head nigga in charge, I’m pulling the guillotine switch
Despite of all the misquoted lyrics, I’m still a genius
And fuck anybody who thinks ‘cause I moved I team-switched
Conceptualize, electrifying with handwriting
These check writers are just neck-biting vampires
Damn liars, don’t touch a bible or put your hands by it
Fakeness, the hatred within me burns like clan fires
Last I was told the culture has been presumed dead
I watch them all fork over the dough just to be spoon fed
Watch your mouth, you don’t compare to Supa
Most would rather try parachuting in a sea full of barracudas
Watch your mouth, you don’t compare to Supa
And I stand behind these bars for life just like I’m Larry Hoover
[Cuts]
[Verse 1: Illogic]
Yeah
Cleaning my brushes, prepping the canvas
Strategic approach, no rushing the stanzas
The masterpieces, the master relinquish prime potency packed in consecutive releases
From Unforeseen, to Man Who Thinks, to Lucid Logic
Gifted, mystic, prolific lyric locksmith
You’re all out of options
I'm just hitting my stride
Diving into new disciplines, come along for the ride
Snapping photos, chopping samples, it's up a notch
Guide my helm through the realm of the Renaissance
It’s a hard drive to the gig
A bite of a sandwich is needеd when I surf on lines, casting my web
Crashing whoеver your band with
Left him for dead for disregarding the standards
Handed down from the mountaintop
I'm praying that these clowns will stop patty-caking
The beat pounds like the sound of a smack from a cinderblock
He pump faking, but I'm staying grounded
Pulling rabbits from habits, the crowd’s left astounded
They want that old Ill, that Got Lyrics, “1000 Whispers,” awkward flow Ill
But if you know Ill, every record I try to grow Ill
Progress is the measured way I show skill
Just know I’m cold still, below windchill, frost bitten
Stop giving these rappers passes for soft writtens like
[Cuts]
[Verse 2: Blueprint]
Don't lie to me, homie
Your life's below me
Your rhyme scheme and your crime scheme seem phony
Unlike these other guys whose rhymes seem boring
I'm constantly fresh like an IG story
My life seen glory and agony the same
You want to be underground, that can be arranged
I'll put you six feet underground in a grave, still in your gold grill and fake gold chains
The undertaker, storm shadow, thunder maker
I'm old school, but I never did the rump shaker
Playing ball the only time I'm a pump faker
Skip college if you ‘bout to choose a dumb major
You can probably learn more from your boy verse
So don't waste that money, give it to your boy first
Just kidding, man, study what you like
Follow your passion, but make sure that you can pay your lights
[Cuts]
[Verse 3: Supastition]
When my emotions high, I scribe faster than most can multiply
24 x 36 poster boys get posterized, pulverized
One punch will blacken both of your eyes
Soldier for the resistance exposed to a culture of lies
I feel focused, still the mic skills ferocious
Some of y’all make me want to double my Nyquil dosage
Sometimes I question why I bother sharpening my talons
Why bother sparring or arguing with bargain bin talent?
Illogic, Supa and Print, we sergeants of this battalion
We pump up the volume, no, we don’t pump Valium
The next time you’re toasting, I’m hoping your limousine flip
Your head nigga in charge, I’m pulling the guillotine switch
Despite of all the misquoted lyrics, I’m still a genius
And fuck anybody who thinks ‘cause I moved I team-switched
Conceptualize, electrifying with handwriting
These check writers are just neck-biting vampires
Damn liars, don’t touch a bible or put your hands by it
Fakeness, the hatred within me burns like clan fires
Last I was told the culture has been presumed dead
I watch them all fork over the dough just to be spoon fed
Watch your mouth, you don’t compare to Supa
Most would rather try parachuting in a sea full of barracudas
Watch your mouth, you don’t compare to Supa
And I stand behind these bars for life just like I’m Larry Hoover
[Cuts]
( Illogic )
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