Logic We Get High Lyrics

We get higher and higher

Crazy blue

Like St. Elmo’s fire

Love’s so sharp

And flat

That it’s hard to know just where you’re at

[Verse 1:]

From the back to the front door

Dealers on the Southside sellin on their front door

Little bit of weed, little bit of crack, whatever you need

While I’m sellin out shows in the ice cold

Shout out to the homies in the front row with the blunt rolled

That waited for hours in the snow just to see me flow

So you know I gotta stay after the show

‘Cause if Chi-Town show love, I’m a show love

Outside, no gloves in the wintertime

‘Cause I’m hungry like dinnertime

Stayin for every single one of my fans

Autographs ’til I couldn’t feel my hands

Just a man with a plan, but you wouldn’t understand

I get high by the notes, you get high by the gram

While you smoke to this

Reminisce when I wrote to this

Up-and-comers take note to this

We get it done on tour, waking up before the sundown

Lake Shore Drive shooting videos

On the block getting spotted by them city hoes (Hey!)

I know I never had to wonder if it’s love or not

Shout-out to the homies up at Juggernaut

For keeping a motherfucker fresh, hell yes

No contest when it comes to gear in the city they be the best

Love my girls outgoing in my City, Chi

But it’s MD ’til the day I die


We get high

Oh so high

That my mind is in the sky

Shorties love it when I rub it

‘Cause I never leave them dry

We get high

Oh so high

That’s what they say in the Chi

I get high

You get high

‘Cause I’m the one that supplies

[Verse 2:]

Shout-out to the Bobby Soxer girls that just love the flow

Chillin out late night with the weed lit blunt split and the paper rolled

RattPack smoking loudpack yeah they ’bout that

Haters talking shit yeah I never doubt that

With the GPS flow we re-route that

Road to riches we be ’bout that

Getting money like Oprah

Fryin’ motherfuckers like Okra

Put your L up if you’re a smoker

Full-time toker

Everything I got that’s what I’m given no division ’til it’s over

Sleeping on the Young Sinatra like a sedative

Now they on a brother’s dick, so repetitive

And they wonder why (and they wonder why)