Logic - Warm It Up lyrics

[Intro] You—You, you You—You, you, you, you, you You, you—You You—You, you, you, you, you You—You, you, you, you, you You, you—You You—You, you, you, you, you Warm it up, warm it up Warm it up, warm it up, warm it up Warm it up, warm it up Warm it up, warm it up, warm it up [Verse 1] It's that Young Sinatra sh**, yeah, this that Young Sinatra sh** Shut the f** up and listen whenever Young Sinatra spit Yeah, your girl fine as hell but she a Young Sinatra chick Hey Bobby, how can you tell? She on the Young Sinatra dick All these rappers wack as f**, make the Young Sinatra sick RattPack be the squad, that’s that Young Sinatra clique Goddamn, said this the Young Sinatra clique, goddamn! Listen, yeah—I’m visualizing the realism of life in actuality Sense in me, fatality, yeah, this sh** is my galaxy I am who the baddest be, I’d rather be at the academy k**ers, I'm be glad to be me, magnify the sh** like bifocal Motherf**ers talk on the Internet but in person they never vocal Come to the hood and f** you up if you prefer to be local I’m local from Noho to Soho Getting Gs like I’m Frodo, you know, hoe I'm blessed like Sunday, flyer than a runway Lil' Bobby never second-guessed that he gon’ make it one day One–way or another, my brother, word to your mother They should give me a badge 'cause I’m always under covers Goddamn! I’m a miraculous man! You know I get, I get it, I get it, I get it The Young Sinatra spit it, rewind it, and rip it I could murder your whole album with a 30-second snippet Pa** the Mary Jane like I’m runnin' a train with Peter Parker On tour I have more s** in the city than Sarah Jessica Parker The deeper and deeper I go, it get darker They say they want the old me, they want the Young Sinatra back The one that murder it, rip it up, no, never givin' up on the almanac Yeah, I’m all of that, fall back, like September again Baskin' these rappers so hard they won’t remember again When it comes to hip-hop, b**h, I’m indigenous to this It's apparent I’m bearin' down like a parent When the beef is at stake, I’m Mastro's My god-level lyricism surpa** flows, I’m much more than fast flows Money, talk, cash, hoes, greatest of levels–I've pa**ed those [Chorus] f** that rap sh**, this that trap sh** (Bobby!) This world is my contraption (Bobby!) I was born and raised in the trap, son (Bobby!) Talk sh**, get kidnapped, son (Bobby!) I don't really know why I rap, son (aye!) Money in the bank, yeah, I got some (aye!) Couple sports cars, yeah, I bought some (aye!) Logic never flex, Bobby get it done! (aye!) Yeah, y'all don't really know where I come from (come now) Talkin' that sh**, I'ma come for 'em (what's good?) Tell me what you really know about me right now Anything I want, I get it somehow [Verse 2] f** that trap sh**, this that rap sh** Give me the hand like John the Baptist Ready to rip it, I hope in the captives Greatest alive like I'm Ca**ius I put 'em all in they caskets, they can't see me get past it I'm a ba*tard that mastered the flow And none of y'all ready for this ma**acre, though f** with Logic—yeah, that's a no Matter of fact, it's not impossible, just highly improbable Like, saying the police isn't robbable But I'm liable to walk up in the station in blue face Like, "f** the police!"—Blue lives ain't a race f** whoever said this rap sh** was never a race This sh** a marathon Murder you motherf**ers and carry on Claimin' that you really 'bout this sh** You got your Jim Carrey on— Liar Liar; I might crucify ya' Number one 'til I die, will never retire I am the messiah, I am the god of this sh** This is how we do it—yeah, I started this sh** Yes, I started this sh** like– [Chorus] f** that rap sh**, this that trap sh** (Bobby!) This world is my contraption (Bobby!) I was born and raised in the trap, son (Bobby!) Talk sh**, get kidnapped, son (Bobby!) I don't really know why I rap, son (aye!) Money in the bank, yeah, I got some (aye!) Couple sports cars, yeah, I bought some (aye!) Logic never flex, Bobby get it done! (aye!) Yeah, y'all don't really know where I come from (come now) Talkin' that sh**, I'ma come for 'em (what's good?) Tell me what you really know about me right now Anything I want, I get it somehow [Outro] You—You, you You—You, you, you, you, you You, you—You You—You, you, you, you, you You—You, you, you, you, you You, you—You You—You, you, you, you, you