[Intro: Louis] (x4)
Check it out, uh
[Verse 1: J-Treds]
Many claim to be blazing, they ain't facing us
We fireproof, saying they're dangerous and ain't
Just like crying wolf, couldn't hurt a fly
That's a dream, (while serving fries?)
So gather steam, bring your weak flow, we'll turn the tides
In our favor, then take charge in less than eight bars
Them motherfuckers know the deal, and we don't play cards
We only pull up, to expos, who got the best flow?
No wonder when we get open's when their mouths is kept closed
Zipped up, cause with us, shouldn't get mixed up
Or you might become the subject of a diss cut
Cause we tear cats with our illest rare rap
And got love for the heads in our camp like a care package
The rest spit fire, cause that's how we win
We in furnaces, towering over your Bic lighter
And when Treds (speaks?) English, y'all heads get extinguished
(You should've known, you ain't getting no [perm/burn?])
Versus some torched (?) who, who rhymes so sick
We show niggas that it's time to quit or endorse Theraflu®
Cause we can't be stopped, our plans be hot
Think shit's sweet, then get out of the candy shop
[Chorus: Louis Logic & {J-Treds}]
J-Treds and Louis Logic serve the hot shit, who'll diss it?
{In taste tests our flavor win praise from food critics}
When we lace tape decks, you'll know exactly who did it
{(It not fair?), but we got principal like a school district}
[Samples]
The principal, yeah
Rappers, (I lose none, and make crews run?)
Your academic's inadmissible
Check it out
[Verse 2: Louis Logic]
Without the need to smoke reefer
Me and J are the masters of E & J
And you can't put it past us, like goalkeepers
(That?) we rock a show with blown speakers
And fill arenas with capacity crowds with no bleachers
Even in old sneakers and the illest beer breath
I leave your cipher near death and still appear fresh
Cause the best release of the year yet is spinning right now
We found we never sleep on beef like insomniacs and night owls
I'll take your Pontiac and drive out
Towards the edge of cliff, jimmy the gearshift and dive out
I'm like a professional stunt man playing with fire
Blaze your attire and give you an unconventional sun tan
[? lip? crew ?] once extinguished, you might resemble
Any one of a hundred niggas, when I'm distinguished
Cause when shove comes down to push
Most heads just beat around the bush like cunnilingus
[Chorus: Louis Logic & {J-Treds}]
[Samples]
[Verse 3: Louis Logic {& J-Treds}]
I'm a stool pigeon on tracks, I can't keep quiet
I take a stand and organized rhyme fams retire
Straight fuck you with no romance & snatch your whole advance
Heads lose their bounce like old implants
{Yo, flows (?) scrap metal versus that of the tin man}
{Never fly, they don't have the wingspan}
{But we spread eagle, flying up to the clouds}
{While most underground niggas only move dead people}
Which proves Lou and Tred's lethal, I got to be fair
And give warning that we're as toxic as a heroin head's needle
And probably as rare as flawless diamonds
It's no greater discovery short of finding whores with hymens
{Giving kids the shakes when they're listening to the tape}
{But never weak, cause we're spitting prescription strength}
{Careful not to OD, that stuff will do it}
{Or will have you froze while we keep it moving like motor fluid}
[Chorus: Louis Logic & {J-Treds}]
[Samples]
[Outro: Louis Logic]
Yo, and it's on like that
Your mic is my mic, it's on like that
'99, Super Regular Recordings
Louis Logical, J.J. Brown
J-Treds the Rhyme Expert dropping ish
Mother scratchers better recognize
And that's class dismissed
Yo, J.J., let 'em off the hook
