(feat. Louis Logic)



[Grand Agent] 

My name is Grand Agent 

Check check it out 

I'm down wit Jim Slade, he's down wit Louis Logic 

Jim Slade, Grand Agent, Louis Logic 



[Chorus x2]

Service the target 

Where it hurt the most we hit the hardest 

Point blank range aimin at them artist 

Your game ain't up to par 

It's time we turned lames into martyrs 



[Grand Agent] 

I got a thing for potent words like cocaine 

Inside the flow game, they don't know how to show shame 

Additional instrumentation ain't it, sane it 

Strictly words and ventilation when I paint it 

Famous as Footwear gear, plane as Goodyear 

Black and well-rounded, sales plaques mounted 

Invite your dialouge, demigods to the dome 

Leave a classic example on the porch if I ain't home 

Then BOOM, I bloom just like breasts in the pre-pubesce 

Easy now, who you test? 

MC who stress me, arrest me cardiac 

Stat like 'where the party at, black?' 

Now it's in your back 

Then insert the knife like the earth so good 

Inside his wife, drink my flow, it's a way of life 

Victory, it be the standard for me 

I'm on some "I'm better than the rest of y'all" 

As far as Grand can see 

Nuttin but smut, now you watchin me 

Butt-fuck doctrines clockin me through factory systems 

Did you actually listen? 

Or am I gonna have to return like I ain't burn you up sufficient 

Turn me up when I be bitchin, my style is decision 

Something like a violent Christian with a molavision 

Turn me up when I be bitchin, my style is decision 

Something like a violent Christian with a molavision 

Service the target 



[Louis Logic] 

I walk up in a strange person's department 

With the purpose of startin 

A fire that burns up your carpet and murders your market 

Campaign strategist like a murderous arsonist 

Whose brain passages resemble insane activists 

It's gonna take alot of band-aids 

And governmental mandates to save your fanbase 

When Louis Logic slayed 

And Grand Agent put the heat to the beat 

MC's get so weak in the knees they need to retreat 

This is warfare, combat, that switches sportswear 

On contact, to your ears when we on tracks 

The effect to this is stronger than the head that spins 

In the Exorcist, or cigarettes and gin on a pregnant chick 

Somebody's bound to die 

My record company's out to hide something about this guy 

They say "Logic's such a character, he'll probably just embarass ya" 

That's why I'll never get the fuck wit Arista 

Plus my manager thinks that I drink too much 

I probably think too much, of morbid things and such 

Like ringin sluts' necks, I'm a suspect to the crime scene 

Retired green wit my team spillin vats of Visine 

I got a dirty mouth, but I practice hygiene 

What I mean by that is cats will catch a cursing-out 

With the maximum curse amount in a verse allowed 

I don't worry 'bout puttin fuckin clean versions out 



[Chorus x2]