Homicide (ProdByWord Remix)

[Intro: Smokey Legendary, Logic & Both]
Son, you know why you the greatest alive?
Why, Dad?
Because you came out of my balls, nigga
Hahahahahaha
(Roof!)

[Chorus: Logic]
Fuck rap
Bustin' like an addict with a semi-automatic
Who done had it, and he ready for anybody to buck back
Hold up, catch a vibe, ain't no way in hell we leavin' nobody alive
Leave a suicide note, fuck that
Bobby feelin' villainous, he killin' this
I'm comin' for your man and his lady and even the baby
I'm feelin' like I'm, chika-chika-chika, Slim Shady with rabies

[Verse 1: Logic]
I'm foamin' at the mouth, ain't nobody takin' me out
Every single rapper in the industry, yeah, they know what I'm about
And I dare you to test me
'Cause not a single one of you motherfuckеrs impress me
And maybe that's a littlе bit of an exaggeration
But I'm full of innovation
And I'm tired of all of this high school "He's cool, he's not" rap shit
Can a single one of you motherfuckers even rap? Shit
No, this ain't a diss to the game, this a gas to the flame
Nowadays, everybody sound the same, shit's lame
Like a moth to the flame, I'ma reel 'em in and kill 'em
Know you feelin' lyricism when I'm spillin' it, I'm feelin' myself
Yeah, yeah, Bobby Boy, he be feelin' himself
Mass murder like this can't be good for my health
When I rap like this, do I sound like shit?
Well, it don't really matter, 'cause I'm killin' this shit
Yeah, I'm killin' this shit
Oh yeah, oh yeah, I'm killin' this shit
Bobby, how many times you been killin' this shit?
Find another rhyme, goddamn, nigga, shit

[Chorus: Logic]
Fuck rap
Bustin' like an addict with a semi-automatic
Who done had it, and he ready for anybody to buck back
Hold up, catch a vibe, ain't no way in hell we leavin' nobody alive
Leave a suicide note, fuck that
Bobby feelin' villainous, he killin' this
I'm comin' for your man and his lady and even the baby
I'm feelin' like I'm, chika-chika-chika-chika
Chika-chika-chika-chika-chika, Slim Shady

[Verse 2: Logic]
There's nowhere to hide, we call this shit genocide
Hit 'em with that (Do-do-do) and they die
We gon' leave 'em crucified, we call this shit genocide
I got bitches, I got hoes, I got rare designer clothes
No, we ain't fuckin' with that
Yeah, there's a time and a place
But if you ain't comin' with the illest of raps
Callin' yourself the greatest alive
Then you don't deserve to do that
No, no, oh no, no, please do not do that
You gon' get smacked
You gon' make Bobby attack
You gon' make Bobby Boy snap
You gon' make Bobby Boy snap (Bobby Boy!)

[Chorus: Logic]
Fuck rap
Bustin' like an addict with a semi-automatic
Who done had it, and he ready for anybody to buck back
Hold up, catch a vibe, ain't no way in hell we leavin' nobody alive
Leave a suicide note, fuck that
Bobby feelin' villainous, he killin' this
I'm comin' for your man and his lady and even the baby
I'm feelin' like I'm chika-chika-chika-chika
Chika-chika-chika-chika-chika, Slim Shady

[Verse 3: Eminem]
Jigga-jigga-jigga-jigga-jigga like JAY-Z
Jig is up, you fuckers who didn't write anything
Are getting washed, liga-liga-liga, like bathing
Young Hova, I know hitters like Yankees
Gun toters that pull triggers like crazy
Unloadin', leave you shot up in your Rover
Your body goes limp and slumps over
Like A-Rod in a month lull, but he just homered
Hol' up, I said "Rover" because now your Rover is red
Like Red Rover, so you know what I meant
But I roll over my opponents instead
Makin' dog sounds 'cause I gotta keep breakin' these bars down
I'll go slow for the speds
But when I go (Roof!) like the Dobermann said
I still think the (Roof!) would go over your head (Ha-ha)
Beast mode, motherfuckers 'bout to get hit
With so many foul lines, you'll think I'm a free throw
Figured it was about time for people to eat crow
You about to get out-rhymed, how could I be dethroned?
I stay on my toes like the repo, a behemoth in sheep's clothes
From the East Coast to the West, I'm the ethos and I'm the G.O.A.T
Who the best, I don't gotta say a fuckin' thing, though
'Cause MCs know
But you don't wanna hear me spit the facts
Your shit is ass like a tailbone
Or you're trapped in your cell phone
Or my chicken scratch, or my self-loathe
I don't wanna fuckin' listen to you spit your raps someone else wrote
Used to get beat up by the big kids
Used to let the big kids steal my big wheel
And I wouldn't do shit but just sit still
Now money's not a big deal
I'm rich, I wipe my ass with six mill'