13 albums
188 lyrics
0% popularity

Blue Magic - Jay Z

Album: American Gangster

genre: Rap Rap / Hip Hop

Roc-A-Fella Records
The imperial Skateboard P
Great Hova
Y’all already know what it is (oh shit!)

Yeah, so what if you flip a couple words?
I could triple that in birds
Open your mind you see the circus in the sky
I’m Ringling Brothers, Barnum & Bailey with the pies
No matter how you slice it I’m your motherfuckin’ guy
And just like a b-boy with 360 waves
Do the same with the pot, still come back beige
Whether right or southpaw, whether pot or the jar
Whip it around, it still comes back hard
So easily do I W-H-I-P
My repetition with wristses’ll bring the kilo bidness
I got Creole, C.O. bitches for my niggas
Who slipped, became prisoners, trees taped to the visitors
You already know what the bidness is
Unnecessary commissary boy we live this shit
Niggas wanna bring the 80’s back
That’s okay with me, that’s where they made me at
Except I don’t write on the wall
I write my name in the history books, hustled in the hall (hustle in the hall)
Nah, I don’t spin on my head
I spin my work in the pot so I can spend my bread

And I’m gettin’ it, I’m gettin’ it
I ain’t talkin’ about it, I’m livin’ it
I’m gettin’ it, straight gettin’ it
Ge-ge-ge-get get get it boy
(Don’t waste your time fighting the life
Stay your course, and you’ll understand)
Get it boy

It’s ’87 state of mind that I’m in (mind that I’m in)
In my prime, so for that time, I’m Rakim (I’m Rakim)
If it wasn’t for the crime that I was in
But I wouldn’t be the guy who rhymes it is that I’m in (that I’m in)
No pain, no profit, P, I repeat if you show me where the pot is (pot is)
Cherry M3’s with the top back (top back)
Red and green G’s all on my hat
North beach leathers, matching Gucci sweater
Gucci sneaks on to keep my outfit together
Whatever, hundred for the diamond chain
Can’t you tell that I came from the dope game?
Blame Reagan for making me into a monster
Blame Oliver North and Iran-Contra
I ran contraband that they sponsored
Before this rhymin’ stuff we was in concert

Push (push) money over broads, you got it, fuck Bush
Chef (chef), guess what I cooked?
Baked a lot of bread and kept it off the books
Rockstar, look, way before the bars my picture was getting took
Feds, they like wack rappers
Try as they may, they couldn’t get me on the hook
D.A. wanna indict me
’cause fish scales in my veins like a Pisces
The Pyrex pot, rolled up my sleeves
Turn one into two like a Siamese
Twin when it end, I’mma stand as a man never dying on my knees
Last of a dying breed, so let the champagne pop
I partied for a while now I’m back to the block
Blue Magic, that’s a brand name
Like Pepsi, that’s a brand name
I stand behind it, I guarantee it
They know that, even if they don’t know me anymore than they know the Chairman of General Mills

photo credit: admin

Lyrics added by Anne Ladybug

Leave a Reply
Song details
  • Publishing: Universal Studios, Interscope Records, Star Trak Entertainment, U Record I Mix It Boy Inc, GuruCrates LLC, Two Tuff-E-Nuff Publishing, Emi Blackwood Music Inc., Waters Of Nazareth Publishing & Carter Boys Music
  • Recording: Andrew Coleman & Young Guru
  • Mixing: Supa Engineer DURO
  • Mix Engineering: Jordan Young
  • Composition: B. Kaun, E. Paugam, D. Robinson, M. Jones, C. Herron, T. Ellis, T. McElroy, D. Foster & Jay Z
  • Vocals: Jay Z
  • Release Date: November 6, 2007