Grand Agent Service The Target Lyrics

Service The Target Lyrics

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] 2x 
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-f**k 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 bit*hin, my style is decision 
Something like a violent Christian with a molavision 
 
Turn me up when I be bit*hin, 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 f**k 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 f**kin clean versions out 

Chorus 2x