Letra de Favela - Logic

Okay

Take one-thirteen

I just wanna say, yeah, this is crazy

Right

Okay, this is, uh, starting on line one with Thomas

On 5th of October, here we go

Heavy is the neck that wears the chain

Grippin' the grain, tryna maintain

Feelin' this weed through the blood to my brain

Writin' these lyrics in the back of the train

Tryna sustain through the pain

Been smokin' and drinkin' a little more than I should

And I would do better, but I'm human

Eyes on me like I'm Truman

Escape through the page, contemplatin' my age

Poetic justice for those who trust us

I ain't tryna beat 'em, no, we just us, watch the gat bust

We get bread, you get crust

Love is a must, world we live in is fucked up

Switch the position on another mission, now peep the diction

It's far from fiction, far from accessible

Want beef? End up a vegetable

A hundred and fifty thousand people is at the festival

Black proud and louder than decibels

Bullshit, no, I'm not susceptible, it's not acceptable

The bitch in me is undetectable, I'm too respectable

Conceptual, my albums be, in the studio 'til 'round about three

Never paid a fee, you fuckin with me? Get it for free

Now let it breathe, murderin' it with ease

Peep the prestige, I spit degrees, your shit freeze

If I had a penny for my thoughts, then I'd be Elon Musk

Rappin' from dawn 'til dusk, you know in Dilla we trust

Hits never went to my head, I was never concussed

Givin' no fucks, bumpin' Busta Genesis

Waitin' for the first of the month and all of its benefits

Life been a bitch, chillin' with Mad Eleven, tryna get richer

Rather get richer, fuck the paper talkin', bigger picture

Comin' to get ya, now let me hit ya with that throwback

The illest memories, PS3 when grenades was gettin' thrown back

Modern Warfare 2 at the favela

Was my escape when I wasn't scrubbin' floors like Cinderella

No glass slipper, pass me the mic, I go Jack The Ripper

I'm sicker than COVID-20, fuck all the money

I'm doin' it how I've been doin', ain't nobody takin' it from me

Grew up five hundred and fifteen miles from Seven Mile

But this beat got me feelin' slummy, dummy, ayy, listen

I never passed tenth grade, but I still get the rent paid

You fake, I be real like Cypress Hill

Fake motherfuckers, I can see through you

My game strong, y'all weak like five plus two

Bust the door, then rush through

Gettin' this bread 'cause the people fuck with it

Your whole shit's stale, wouldn't feed ducks with it

I make firm decisions like a legislator

My briefcase Italian leather, my loafers is alligator

My bank account is greater, but none of them numbers define me

Fuck rap, put it behind me, don't try me, y'all too grimy

Smokin' cigs after dark, we call that Nick at Nite

Spark the blunt, watch the Bic ignite, fuck your life

Think you could body me, bitch? You couldn't even limb me

Smokin' dope like a chimney, I been me

Fuck, fuck, fuck (Yo, listen up, yeah)

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck rap (Uh, listen up, uh)

Di—, Di—, Di—, Di—, Di—, Di—

Dilla we trust (Listen up)

Di—, Di—, Di—, Di—, Di—, Di—

Dilla we trust (Yeah)

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