conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called Roll Call with the following description: The 2013 XXL Freshman who recently signed a recording contract with Def Jam is gearing up for his upcoming mixtape Young Sinatra: Welcome To Forever. He decides to give us the first leak off it, and he goes in over Outkast’s classic “Ms. Jackson” instrumental.
  The spiritual successor to his 2010 track, Backpack.
  The tape dropped on May 7th, 2013. Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Verse]
  Yeah, smoking in London while the snow fall
  In another country, so pardon me for the roll call
  Damn, who would've thought the fan base was this immense?
  On the first fucking train to Paris so pardon my french
  Shows sold out, fans in line even though it's cold out
  Yeah, touring Europe getting swiss cheese
  Many said I'd never attain it now I'm like, "Bitch please, what up?"
  Allow me to open up the verse with something so diverse
  Now let the flow immerse, hold up; watch it disperse
  Visions of Biggie, Big L and 2Pac just looking at me (Biggie)
  From the gates of Heaven while the police booking at me
  Open your mental while bitches give me brain with no dental
  Y'all probably think I'm crazy for touching this instrumental
  Shout out my cousin Ego, he know this shit's sentimental
  Been doing this shit for my dogs, holding down the kennel
  My ex hit me, talkin' 'bout she wanna make up
  But on the real, I got no time for cover girls
  Music is my main bitch, no time for other girls
  I'm finna blow like Hiroshima, my demeanor get meaner
  Watch me elevate to arenas, me without the mic
  That's like 
  Martin without the Gina
  , 
  Venus without Serena
  Now these thirsty bitches on the dick, we call that Aquafina
  I used to bus tables until them tables turned
  And everything I have obtained is everything I've earned
  And everything I rap about is everything I've learned
  So hopefully the listener can position a situation
  Where they don't get burned
   
  and they can learn from my mistakes
  Like I've learned from the greats
   to do whatever it takes
  For Heaven's sakes open your mind, this shit one of a kind
  Elegant and refined, irrelevant to the swine
  What's the deal? 
  Whipping through LA in the coupe de Ville
  On the real
  , 
  to various people I do appeal, 'cause of skill
  So this the type of shit I'm gon' keep making
  That make MCs break fast like flapjacks and bacon
  Rest in peace to BIG, and many other fallen soldiers
  Never Hollywood, I'm grounded like a cup of Folgers, bitch I told ya
  Allow me to open up your mind and mold ya
  Indulge ya, within this shit I call the second Renaissance
  The system broke and they sent Logic in for maintenance
  'Cause all you wack rappers couldn't break change to make sense
  I'm back again with another argument about how much I'm black again
  Fighting for credibility from the lack of blacker skin
  It's kind of funny how your pigment determines how people perceive you
  That's ignant
  Ain't seen my momma in a minute
  'Cause growing up she called me a nigg​er
  That would never amount to nothing
  Racism from my own momma, left home 'cause of drama
  But I can make it in the rap game, look at Obama
  You ain't been in my shoes, you don't know my story
  You don't know what's in store, but bitch I stocked the inventory
  Fuck a critic with the balls to try to tell me how I feel
  You wasn't with me as a child, never once did you feel
  The pain of my stomach that manifested from the lack of meals
  Headed to the soup kitchen on foot by the lack of wheels
  We aim to keep it real and hell no we ain't never missing
  Came a long way from eating when government gave permission
  If you think these lyrics ain't deep, you too stupid to listen
  Just an outcast with a mission to spit to whoever listen
  , 
  bitch, it's Logic