Growing Pains II

I’m on the come up

Anything that ya’ll do I’m one up

Ya’ll grind till like 3 in the morning

I grind till the sun up

Homie that’s dedication

This world is what I’m facing

I only hope in the end

That they all love and embrace me

I’m trying to write my wrongs,

But its funny

These same wrongs helped me write this song

Momma I’m sorry that left at 17

I apologize a trillion times

Everything ain’t what it seem when you try and

Follow your dreams

First you saw the bigger picture

Now you see behind the scenes

You though everything was sweet

Now you see that shit is mean

Got a taste now you a fiend

Been into it since you been a teen

Yeah he nice so all his friends

Say he gon’ blow like Hiroshim

Eyes on the prize like the baddest bitch

You ever seen

At home late night, chillin, envisioning

Himself on the cover of Vibe magazine

But everything ain’t what it seems

Though it seem like he gon’ blow

Will he make it?

Maybe so

Too be honest I don’t know

He got lyrics, he got flow

But it takes so much mo’

So much love

So much pain

With such little time to grow

Yeah we love it when he smile

But hate it when he frown

Remember when that girl

Turned his world upside down

But it made his music better

Brought emotion made it clever

Now we growing everyday

But he hungry try to eat

Brain like en EKG the way

That he study the best

Now we know that he gon’ make it

And he won’t accept defeat

Now I ain’t trying to be mean

Now I ain’t trying to be mean

But everything ain’t what it seem

I’m trying to write my wrongs,

But its funny

These same wrongs helped me write this song

Momma I’m sorry that left at 17

I apologize a trillion times

So many times have I designed a rhyme

To blow your mind

Cuz I know that I wasn’t destined

To live a life of crime

I remember Christmas’s with no presents

I use to fear my future

Now I dread my adolescence

Living a life as logic

But it ain’t what it’s cut out to be

Cuz if I couldn’t rap

Ya’ll wouldn’t give a fuck about me

Hip hop is politics

Filled with nothing but strife and stress

Time is money and it’s hard to invest

Step on the stage I get the honeys so wet

Rocking thousand dollar tuxes sippin

On nothing but Moet

Thinking I’m so set

But really I ain’t done shit yet

This game is war and in my mind

I’m like a Vietnam vet

Now I’m on the come up

Anything that ya’ll do I’m one up

Ya’ll grind till like 3 in the morning

I grind till the sun up

Homie that’s dedication

This world is what I’m facing

I only hope in the end

That they all love and embrace me

I’m trying to write my wrongs,

But its funny

These same wrongs helped me write this song

Momma I’m sorry that left at 17

I apologize a trillion times

For the motherfuckers that hated I made it

Slowly elevated,

Escalated onto another level ha

My flow is crack the game is Whitney yeah

Fame is Bobby on their first date

It ain’t hit me yet

Visualizing driving down the horizon

While you despising the fact

That I’m rising

So much hate within this world this shit

Is so traumatizing

Steppin to me yeah

You better be alphabetically ready

Aim steady

Lyricism sharp as machete

I got it already

See I was born to sell records

You was destined to sell tunes

All up your headphones

Killing booths like cellphones

I got it

Cuz everything ain’t what is seems

It ain’t just him it takes a team

At the ten headed to the zone in his mug mean

Yeah the quarterback shines

But not without a sense of safety

So truly he is me

And motherfucker you can’t face me

Now I’ve had a lot of doubt

I thought I had throw that out

Cuz I find that they listen

When I rhyme not when I shout

And right now shit is rocky

With me and my girl

See music is my moon

But this shawty is my world

Think about you all the time

Turn that shit into a rhyme

Cuz sometimes you can ignore me

But the beat listens just fine

Tell me do you even know

If you truly want to grow

Hate letters when I’m writing Love Jones

All I know

Cuz eveything ain’t what it seems

I’m trying to write my wrongs,

But its funny

These same wrongs helped me write this song

Momma I’m sorry that left at 17

I apologize a trillion times

Living a life you only dream about

Flow angelic but now

It’s time to bring the demon out

Can you feel me ?

I said it’s hard being a saint inside a sinner’s body

You know its hard living as Logic

After living as Bobby

This is the life I depicted

As a child picked it

Feeling conflicted

To music I am addicted

Not one of ya’ll can predict it

So many bars I’m feeling convicted

Now writing like a felony

I’m selling homie who you telling

While ya’ll do everything by the book fuck

That I’m rebelling

Bitch I’m on another level

A level you ain’t seen

A level that is truly only deemed for a king

The second you listen

It’s my mission to murder any rendition

Busting with precision

If you in my vision I’m never missing

Logic administer sinister verses

Like a minister for the listener

Can you motherfuckers feel me ?