Warm It Up - Logic, Young Sinatra

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

This that Young Sinatra shit, yeah this that Young Sinatra shit

Shut the fuck up and listen whenever your Sinatra spit

Yeah your girl as fine as hell but she a Young Sinatra chick

Hey Bobby how can you tell?

She on a Young Sinatra dick

All these rappers wack as fuck, make the Young Sinatra sick

RattPack be the squad, that’s that Young Sinatra clique

God damn, this the Young Sinatra clique, God damn

Listen, yeah, I’m visualizing the realism in my life and actuality

Stuck to me fatality yeah this shit is my galaxy

I am who the baddest be

I’d rather be at academy

Killers be glad to be me

Magnify the shit like bifocal

Motherfuckers talk on the internet but in person they never vocal

Come to the hood and fuck you up if you prefer to be local

I’m local, from Noho, to Soho,

Getting G’s like I’m Frodo, you know ho I’m

Blessed like Sunday, flyer than a runway

Little Bobby never second guess that he goin' make it one day

One wake, or another my brother word to your mother

They should give me a badge cuz I’m always under-covers

God damn I’m a miraculous man

You know I get, I get it, I get it, I get it

They turn out to spit it, rewind it and rip it

I can murder your whole album with a 30 second snippet

Pass the Mary Jane like I’m running a train with Peter Parker

Until I have more sex in the city than Jessica Parker

The deeper and deeper I go it get darker

They say the want the old me, the want the Young Sinatra back

The one that murder it, rip it up

Never gonna give it up around an almanac

Yeah I’m all of that, fall back, like September again

Basking these rappers so hard that they won’t remember again

When it comes to Hip Hop, bitch I’m indigenous to this

This apparent, I’m barring down like a parent

When the beef is at steak, I’m Astros

My god level lyricism surpass flows

I’m much more than fast flows,

Money talk cash flows,

Great as the numbers at past shows

Fuck that rap shit this that trap shit (Bobby)

This world is my contraption (Bobby)

I was born and raised in the trap son (Bobby)

Talk shit get kidnapped son (Bobby)

I don’t really know why I rap son (ayy)

Money in the bank, yeah I got some (ayy)

Couple sports cars yeah I bought some (ayy)

Thought you never flex Bobby get it done (ayy)

Y’all don’t really know where I come from

Talking that shit, I’m a come for it (what's good)

Tell me what you really know about me right now

Everything I want I get it somehow

Fuck that trap shit this that rap shit

Give me the hand like John the Baptist

Ready to whip it I hoove in the catcher

Greatest alive like I’m Cassius

I put 'em all in they caskets

They can’t see me get past this

I’m a bastard that mastered the flow and none of y’all ready for this massacre

though

Fuck what Logic had absent though

Matter of fact it’s not impossible but highly improbable like

Saying the police isn’t robbable

But I’m liable to walk up into a station in blue face

Like fuck the police!

Blue lives ain’t a race

Fuck whoever said this rap shit was never a race

This shit a marathon

Murder you motherfuckers and carry on

Claiming that you really 'bout ya shit

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 shit

This is how we do it

Yeah I started this shit, yes I started this shit like

Fuck that rap shit this that trap shit (Bobby)

This world is my contraption (Bobby)

I was born and raised in the trap son (Bobby)

Talk shit get kidnapped son (Bobby)

I don’t really know why I rap son (ayy)

Money in the bank, yeah I got some (ayy)

Couple sports cars yeah I bought some (ayy)

Thought you never flex Bobby get it done (ayy)

Y’all don’t really know where I come from

Talking that shit, I’m a come for it (what's good)

Tell me what you really know about me right now

Everything I want I get it somehow