Louis Logic - Who the Fuck Are You? [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

Who are you?
Who am I? I'm Lou. Who the fuck are you?

[Verse One]
Yeah, check it out, my man Cimer Amor on the boards
This is your tour guide, Louie Logic, fasten your seatbelts

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?"

[Scratched Samples]
"Who the fuck are you?"
{?}

[Verse Two]
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 Indy 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 liks 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 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?

[Verse Three]
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
You're sold short sleeping in your futon ?????
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 stealing 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?