Simple Words - Louis Logic, Jay Love, Odd Couple

I’ma let you know the deal, expose the real

I’m cold as steel, so chill and check these flows I spill

No deal

My lines makes MC’s lose they motor skills

So ill

I rhyme at your open mic and close the bill

I focus in and flip raps like flap jacks

And back track with Bono while you screaming «Where the DAT at?»

The rap pack

Pack a club like nap sacks

Attack wack rappers that lack tracks with back slaps

Well that’s that, here comes the truest prophets

J-Love and Louis Logic, you be stupid thinking you can stop it

Got food for topic, we be eating MC’s

Call me MC J. Dahlmer, eat the meat off your knees

I freak it with ease while you peeping my steez, creeping with thieves

Drinking the trees, my e-y-e's Vietnamese

Y’all be

Deep in a freeze, going iced out like Cryogenics

Go and try and set it

But you’re on some sweet shit like diabetics

«Your simple words just don’t move me»

«Don't make me have to call your name out»

«Ya minor»

I’m drinking beer till I’m thinking weird, suddenly disturbed

With two shots down next one will be my third

I’m a runaway, flasher, upsetting' innocent by passers

Cause I refuse to put my gun away

Buyin' beer and cigarette’s and for the underage

Puke into the sound booth and dive from the stage

I’ve become enraged, from sticky summer days

Of working for the man underpaid

I could give a fuck in each instance

To ever reach the distance

Travelling on the path of least resistance

Cause when the beat is finished

I still continue rhyming

With the breakthrough shit like I’m spilling into hymen

Logic is a sick fuck who love’s to get his dick sucked by rich sluts

And wipe my nuts off on their big bucks

I’m too mixed up with motherfuckers on the slide

Flipping you the bird with your mother in my ride

I was baptized in adulterous, orgasmic juice

With an attitude that’s flat lining your pulses

Chastised as the, ultimate cultist

Drink a river of liquor until my liver convulses

Yo I’m, switching the voltage cause these rhymes is too hot

Heard for two blocks in your boombox when J and Lou rocks

So who got, huge props?

Trying to diss us?

Oooh gods

I spit shit so ill I need a flu shot

Sharper than blue watch faces

But I’m suicidal

And liable to hang myself if my shoes got laces

Chilling in two hot places

Hades and Hell

Planting seeds with a sign that reads «Babies For Sale»

There ain’t no ladies in jail, son I can’t get locked up

Feeling boxed up, I live free through beats that chopped up

I pop up in battles and open mics

Provoke a fight then get ghost like Poltergeist