Vinyl Days Lyrics by Logic (feat. DJ Premier)
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Vinyl days
DJ Premier
That’s my homie, that’s my idol
On the road to success, but ya’ll idle
6ix on the beat, Ratt Pack, ****
Let’s go, here we go, let’s get it all
All I need is one mic, one pen, one page to ignite
Subject matter heavy, but the flow is MC Lyte
You mad as ****, all you see is red like a conservative
All the critics do is talk, I’m really not concerned with it
Hell is hot and we can make your residency permanent
Several shots, they tying up your body with a tourniquet
Let ’em rock, it’s obvious that he don’t know who turn it is
Keep my circle tight knit, ’cause people move deceitful
Money and greed will expose you to the root of evil
Already proved myself, not worried ’bout who’s my equal
Far from an antivaxxer, but I move the needle
**** got me wondering if what I do is legal
**** it, I’m going a hundred in this Buick Regal
**** it, I’m going a hundred, playing Beanie Sigel
You still run that old game like a Neo Geo
You looking for me? I’ma be in Rio
Sunbathin’ off the coast, sippin’ pinot grigio
Out the country so much they like, “Easy, gringo”
Straight off the two-track, don’t need a single
Traveled abroad from my catalogue
Made all this money recording raps on my Macintosh
Call it applesauce
Even with the cameras off, I be spazzin’ dog
Drum machine analog, the North Face camouflage
That lo-fi dusty Panasonic with the tracking knob
Marijuana smoke fill the air like L.A traffic smog
Come on homie, listen to the voice of reason
Yeah, you talk a lot of ****, but you don’t want the beef like a vegan
Was passing through like the aux channel
And then I fell asleep on you, ****, we call you the golf channel
I’m barbecue grilling these rappers in Croc sandals
Got money to cop Lambos, but I’d rather chop samples
Many lines, many rhymes, **** gutta like Pennywise
Shout out big brother, got many eyes
I’m like Malcom peeking through the mini-blinds
**** with Logic, that’s the reason that you stopped breathing
Cardiac arrest, caught you at your chest
Shoulda wore a vest, now you’re all a mess
You no kind of threat, you shoulda wore a dress
Polo high tech, with the Navy crest
Cut from the cloth, you couldn’t thread with a needle
Bought this **** at Fred Seagull, got your **** spread-eagle
The revolution won’t be televised, they telling lies
They want to strip your soul away and lead to a well that’s dry
That’s why we in the kitchen cooking, know you smell the vibe
That stick to your ribs ****, no frozen fries
Go against the gang, get pulverized
I’m at the crib wa-watching Cobra Kai
Thinking to myself, goddamn, how old am I?
Rose through depression, like a rose, I was destined
Ya bro reach his goals like D. Rose with the left hand
When life takes a toll, I suppose it’s a lesson
Question, how you woke, but you slept in?
Treading on your rappers like Midas for over ten years
Without changing tires, ****, I should probably check the milage
Back on my hustle, got packs in the duffle
Push rhymes like weight, yeah, you know I’m taxing you double
I’m in the pocket like a running back, run it back
I bought your new ****, hey, run me my money back
Fly by night, this that fly like Mike
ESPN, better get those highlights right
Before and better when the light shine bright
You lookin’ like food, it might get fried like rice
Threw on the chef apron and I turn into Gordon Ramsey
I seen cats sell they whole soul for a Camry
I seen your favorite artist do the most just for Grammys
I seen a grown man lying just to get the panties
I’m cooking like grannies, the recipes are sick and we got extras in the pantry
I’m going super saiyan just to represent the family
I think that’s why the haters can’t stand me
I’m not the socialite type, but my vocals quite right
I’m still spittin’ raps like it’s open mic night
I’m still getting play from the **** you might like
I’m still getting paid off the flows you probably bite
It’s Logic