Who the Fuck Are You?

Lyrics

[Sample: ?] Who are you? Who am I? I'm Fucking Lou. Who the fuck are you? [Intro: Louis Logic] Yeah, check it out, my man Cimer Amor on the boards This is your tour guide, Louis Logic, fasten your seat belts [Verse 1: Louis Logic] I start beef on dark streets, cursing the transients Take your pick of your latest whip, hearse or an ambulance 'Cause I'm a scientist to the rescue Who wish to infect you with contaminants from a test tube I pop up on the scene unexpectedly All up in your city like teen mother pregnancy Fiends love my tendency to serve dope 'Cause I mesh with rap like a pimp in feathered hats and a fur coat Curtains closed, I'm a cop like Serpico Who'll lock you up in fresh wears and let you go in dirty clothes I'm naked, wear my words exposed Disturbing folks performing bourbon-soaked at suburban shows Alert the pope and you better call a doctor I'm going off my rocker when I chug a quart of vodka And just before the cops come I'll face a hundred dudes Like, "I'm Louis Logic, who the fuck are you?" [Scratches] (Who the fuck are you?) (Who the fuck are you?) (Who the fuck are you?) (Who the fuck are you?) [Verse 2: Louis Logic] Yeah, Check, check Plain and simple, ordinary Jack's ain't as nimble Plus you lack the sack if your main veins are thimble I hang my head over the pane of windows Throwing up like, L.A. gang signs or graf paint in scribbles Blowing up's a far stretch, with indie B-sides I'm hard pressed for a free ride like car theft I'm a hard head, I gotta chill with Joe Camel And stick with the liqs like a hick in old flannel The contradiction in terms, to y'all niggas spitting a verse? Is like me smiling while I flip you the bird I'm mister disturbed and doctor depression I got an obsession for seeing police officers stressing And catching a deepthroating actress Who knows gymnastics And sucks the lubricant off of prophylactics The facts is, I specialize in crushing brews I'm Louis Logic nigga, who the fuck are you? [Scratches] (Who the fuck are you?) (Who the fuck are you?) (Who the fuck are you?) (Who the fuck are you?) [Verse 3: Louis Logic] Yo, yo, check it out I create new constructs of lewd conduct Something similar to "Luke on dust" The faint of heart want to puke on us, my cohorts are so sick Your sawed shorts, sleeping and your futon rust We throw bricks 'cause we building, not a lack of skill Fake cats make a killing in the actor's guild I got a glass to fill with beer, sipping while I'm still in gear Whipping a black Cadillac Seville Niggas asking, "Is this cat for real?" Shit, I'm swallowing some Advil pills with a flask that's filled As a meal, I'm a shoe-in, when it comes to spewing confusion Over-achiever, working on improving my boozing If you think that that's funny, a drug dealer Tried to buy my single DAT from me with some crack money Sonny, my style is new plus improved 'Cause I'm Louis Logic, who the fuck are you? [Scratches] (Who the fuck are you?) (Who the fuck are you?) (Who the fuck are you?) (Who the fuck are you?)