conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called DadBod with the following description: “DadBod” is Logic’s way of poking fun at people who want him to go back to his early rap days such as this album’s predecessor, Under Pressure, where he raps about his tough upbringing.
  Logic explains to the listener that he has evolved past that type of rapping since he no longer experiences these things. He has a new child, a loving wife and his life is generally more mundane now than it was in the past.
  The term “DadBod” itself is a meme in popular culture, simply being a physical physique that is relatively slim but not strong or toned at all. Logic is symbolically taking on this “average” role for his listeners and his son.
  A music video was released on July 27, 2020. The video shows him going through his daily life such as walking with his newborn, playing games and hanging out with his wife. Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Intro]
  Yeah, yeah
  Hahaha
  Ayy
  [Chorus]
  Chillin' with the homies at the crib
  Bumpin' Pac Div, this the life I live, you ain't know about it
  Hit the studio with No I.D.​
  Make a couple platinum records in that bitch and then I dip up out it
  On the 101, my wife text me
  Talkin' 'bout, "You gotta get home, feed your son," girl, don't trip about it
  Walk up in with apple sauce and broccoli
  Little Bobby, better eat your greens, boy, don't give me lip about it
  [Verse 1]
  I'm a dad, this my life
  This the type of shit I write
  I was hungry in the basement, now that boy, he full of life
  Smoking dope, high as a kite
  Only when that babysitter at the crib, though
  Take my shorty to Nobu and dig up in her rib though, ayy, yeah
  (Take my shorty to Nobu and dig up in her rib though, yeah)
  'Cause back in my day it was food stamps
  And I love my wife like I am Chance
  I bet you'd rap about the shit me and him rap about
  If you had ever made it out, but you ain't never had the chance
  Uh, uh, circumstance
  Uh, uh, way of life
  Uh, uh, my decisions
  Uh, uh, made 'em right [Chorus]
  Chillin' with the homies at the crib
  Bumpin' Pac Div, this the life I live, you ain't know about it
  Hit the studio with No I.D.​
  Make a couple platinum records in that bitch and then I dip up out it
  On the 101, my wife text me
  Talkin' 'bout, "You gotta get home, feed your son," girl, don't trip about it
  Walk up in with apple sauce and broccoli
  Little Bobby, better eat your greens, boy, don't give me lip about it (Ayy, ayy)
  [Verse 2]
  I've upgraded while they waited, will they love it, will they hate it?
  Who gives a fuck though?
  Rappers praying they next, this shit is cutthroat
  I'm livin' on another planet
  My manic depression make me constantly wanna panic
  I'm stressing on stage, pretendin' everybody undressing
  I think I'll never learn my lesson, but fuck it all, it doesn't matter
  Ayo, I'm on a lyrical, poetic rhetoric
  Lyrical miracle, satirical shit
  If you don't like my conscious rap, you won't like my material shit
  Love him or hate him, everybody know Logic can spit
  Used to be up to date on that rap political shit
  But nowadays I'm up to my elbows
  And every single inch of my body in my baby's shit
  I could tell you more about diapers than modern rappers in cyphers
  I used to be about the B-Rabbits and Mekhi Phifers
  Hit the stage, grip the mic and murder you like a pro-lifer
  But I'm done now, I got a son now
  Fuck the rap game, I'm done now [Chorus]
  Chillin' with the homies at the crib
  Bumpin' Pac Div, this the life I live, you ain't know about it
  Hit the studio with No I.D.​
  Make a couple platinum records in that bitch and then I dip up out it
  On the 101, my wife text me
  Talkin' 'bout, "You gotta get home, feed your son," girl, don't trip about it
  Walk up in with apple sauce and broccoli
  Little Bobby, better eat your greens, boy, don't give me lip about it
  [Verse 3]
  They say that that boy done changed
  He don't rap about his everyday life, he ain't the same
  Goddamn, already had a hard life once
  Am I supposed to recreate it every album for you cunts? Okay
  You want to hear about my everyday
  I wake up, I wake my son up, then I feed him
  And lead him into his car seat
  Drive up the street down to Target
  Don't do hard drugs or beat my wife
  But the paparazzi still wanna start shit
  I don't answer their questions, I leave 'em in the dark, bitch
  Then I walk through the automatic doors
  A couple fans spot me but, shit, I ain't on tour
  I ain't trying to ignore her
  But I head to aisle four 'cause my drawers stank as fuck
  And I need some new drawers
  Then I spot some more fans, stan hella hardcore (
  Can I have a picture?
  )
  Asking for a pic and I say sure
  Scratch my dick and shake his hand
  Shaking uncontrollably, he tells me I'm the man
  Now I'm headed to aisle three for some Bounty paper towels
  I also grab some wet wipes to clean the shit from my bowels
  A really hot girl walks by with a fat ass
  But I'm just wondering if Hefty really holds the most trash
  Forgot my card at home, thank God I brought some cash
  Then I grab some Preparation H for the critics up my ass
  Head to aisle five for some Sgt. Smash cereal
  Is this want you wanted, everyday life material?
  I'm not a kid anymore and be sure shit's boring
  Made it out the basement, now my bank account soaring
  Most exciting part of my life is probably touring
  Don't get me wrong, I love fans in every single city
  But hotels suck and the internet is shitty
  I mean, why rap about everyday shit
  When I could murder punch lines and sound dope like this? [Chorus]
  Chillin' with the homies at the crib
  Bumpin' Pac Div, this the life I live, you ain't know about it
  Hit the studio with No I.D.​
  Make a couple platinum records in that bitch and then I dip up out it
  On the 101, my wife text me
  Talkin' 'bout, "You gotta get home, feed your son," girl, don't trip about it
  Walk up in with apple sauce and broccoli
  Little Bobby, better eat your greens, boy, don't give me lip about it
  [Outro]
  Hello, no one is available to take your call
  Please leave a message after the tone
  Bro, call me back
  We couldn't get the fuckin' Super **** sample cleared again, so fuckin' annoying, bro
  But honestly, I just say that we chop up the Toro y Moi joint
  That we were gonna put on 
  Ultra 85
  And just like flip, fuckin' freak the shit outta that joint
  I think it could be crazy
  Call me back, I'ma chop it up on the MPC
  Here I go