Louis Logic - Who the Fuck Are You? lyrics

Who are you? Who am I? I'm Fucking Lou
Who the fuck are you? Yeah, check it out
My man Cimer Amor on the boards
This is your tour guide, Louis Logic
Fasten your seat belts

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?"
(Who the fuck are you?)
(Who the fuck are you?)
(Who the fuck are you?)
(Who the fuck are you?)

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
LA 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?
(Who the fuck are you?)
(Who the fuck are you?)
(Who the fuck are you?)
(Who the fuck are you?)

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?
(Who the fuck are you?)
(Who the fuck are you?)
(Who the fuck are you?)
(Who the fuck are you?)