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Logic – See You Space Cowboy… Lyrics



Yeah, yeah, uh

[Verse 1]

Grammy-nominated, never won it though

Don’t need it, but deep down I want it though

Bank account still on a hunnid though

My bank account still on a hunnid (Ayy)

But that don’t mean shit, that don’t mean that I’m shit

It’s just me and my clique and we bombin’ this shit

Ain’t no drama and shit, now I’m throwin’ a fit

Watch me throwin’ a fit and get lit like I’m Evel Knievil

Just me and my people, we call this the sequel to Under Pressure

Ain’t no need to measure who the best

Fuck around and know who the best

Who give a shit? I just spit about this and I know what I love

R-A-double-T, I put nothing above like that thing in the glove

From Maryland to LA, I’m a motherfucking boss at the bars

And I’m down for the cause, who’s down for the cause?

Take a step back, hold up (L-O-G-I-C)

Put the city on the map with the city on my back

Let ’em know you’re never ever goin’ back (L-O-G-I-C)

Don’t be scared to murk ’em all, hurt ’em all, watch ’em all

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Get up all, watch ’em all get a ball (L-O-G-I-C)

When you grow up in a hood without a male role model

And your momma turn to the bottle

Give a damn about status, who the baddest

I just wanna be the raddest dad as I can be

This shit is systemic inside of us B’, the media lie to us B’

They tell us we can be whoever we want to be

And then when we try, what they tell us? (What they tell us?)

What they tell us? To live more realistically (Ayy)

Fuck that, get the fuck back, fuck rap and all that noise

Growing up, how I grew up I really never had a choice

Had killers and murderers in my house and they was all of my boys

But deep down I always knew better, knew that shit I need to avoid

[Verse 2]

Ayy, ayo

I got a lot on my mind

Got a lot of work ahead of me

I’m tryna maintain balance of my time

Never want to let it bottle up like everything fine

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That’s how you go crazy and end up in the pond

I’ve been talkin’ to my therapist

Rhymes I’ve been writin’ so hot you would think it was in Arabic

Flow bomb like a terrorist, never careless

I got soul like parish, yeah, from Tokyo to Paris

My bitch bad, stay with money like a heiress

Time with my wife and my son what I cherish

[Break: Logic]

Just try to relax your mind

Just try to relax your mind

Just try to relax your mind

Just try to relax your mind

[Outro: Logic & Little Bobby]

Alright, well I guess I just I woke up one day and I was like “You know what? I kinda feel like rapping again.” You know what I’m saying? So I did. And I been chillin’ with little Bobby and his fine ass momma and we out here in the country. Shooting guns, riding dirt bikes and shit and I was just like “Man, I want to do this.” So I invited all the homies in the middle of nowhere. And uhh we just decided to do this Bobby Tarantino EP, three-peat, off the cuff just for fun, just for the summer, just for all the homies. But we actually out here recording this album. It’s going to be my last studio-album on DefJam. So it’s going to be a vibe. It’s just going to be fun, you know, just a fun thing. You know me, I’m a nerd, I love hip-hop, man. I love you listening, I love the fans, we doing this shit for the fans man. Whole time I was gone they was like “Come back! Come back!” and I was like, “Nah.” And then now I’m like, “Yeah, alright, I’m back.” I love y’all so much. RATTPACK, baby. Yeah. Little Bobby. (Dadda, Momma)

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