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gentleman and a scholar - louis logic lyrics

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[intro: celph t-tled, louis logic]
uhh…what…yo..
my man louis logic, up in the chrome depot once again, baby
d-minor on the motherf-cking beat
yo lou, who you talking to?
to all the s-xy women (you’re so beautiful)
dressed in linen (so cute to lou)
yeah…have a candlelight dinner with you
and a nice bottle of mo before you drop to the flo’, ho

[verse 1]
i look at beef like a chick with crooked t–th: turn the cold shoulder
down a brooklyn street, whenever stoned sober
but when i’m drunk, i look deceased, show’s over
a boatload of l!cks ’till i’m sick, and rolled over
laying in my own p-ss on an old sofa
in strips of a police line that i dove over
chicks in dip range rovers following me
the mc who wiped his -ss with his college degree
who’s the biggest lush? probably me
who swigs enough to spit the sickest stuff
after chugging a bottle or three?
it’s making sense logic-ally
if heads don’t take offense to what you spit to me
you’re not an mc
i deal in reality, selling your hope
developing quotes for folks to make a pelican choke
you f-cking big-mouths have never been dope on one track
has-beens, forget all your hopes for comeback

[hook: louis logic (celph t-tled)]
i’m cl-ssy in a caddy or in an impala
even riding on an old schwinn women will holla
broke n-ggas want me to lend them a dollar
i tell them, “thanks, but no thanks”
(cause he’s a gentleman and a scholar)

[verse 2]
if you ask me what hip-hop means, i’d have to say
spitting one ob-scene rap a day to blashphemer pop queens
stage diving drunk into a mob scene
to fight a punk and when the cops come driving up
scream in the mic, “it’s not me!”
i’m like a virus that gets in your -ss, still infectious
a mad scientist in the lab when i’m spilling measures
you get the type of smackdown a credit card fraud villain catches
when he’s tracked down by bill collectors
filthy lectures with the illest textures, outbreak
your next course of action i’d suggest, about face
all kidding aside, my records outweigh most
the last man who came close didn’t survive
sh-t, isn’t it fly how your sister replied
to -ssist me in the kitchen ’till the dishes are dry?
you got a nice family, except for your deadbeat daddy
tell him to do his ch0r-s first, or he’ll never get the caddy

(chorus)

[verse 3]
venemous nemesis who sits in a bar
sipping a jar of russian vodka from an infamous czar
it’s one of the gifts that a star has at his disposal
whipping my car after i drank it into an accident, totalled (thanks for nothing)
tanked and buzzing, with wood in my jeans
looking for queens with legs for loving, to put it between
my idea of romance is pulling off a ho’s pants
with no dance and dinner unless she’s cooking for me
i’m not a chauvinist…just bend your -ss over, miss
and show me both your t-ts while you choke on this
the s-x crazed ex-slave came back to the farm
to pack the piper master’s wife ’till the mattress is warm
and after i’m gone, i want my anaconda bronzed
and made into a d-ld–shaped statue on your mama’s lawn
don’t get offended cause my songs are long and nonsense
wrongful comments and strong in content

(chorus)

[outro]
and so…at this time i’d like to thank all the people who can suck my c-ck
you’re all pieces of sh-t
i hope you get hit by a speeding bus
and everyone who showed up to my party tonight, in such fly attire
very nice to have you
don’t let the door hit you in the -ss on the way out

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