Blue Magic (ft. Pharell) Lyrics


Non-album songs

Lyrics to Blue Magic (ft. Pharell)
Blue Magic (ft. Pharell) Video:
Roc-a-fella records The imperial skateboard P Great Hova Ya'll already know what it is C'mon! Yeah, So what if you flip a couple words, I could triple at 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 mother-f**king guy And just like a B-boy with 360 waves Do the same with the pot, Still come back beige. Whether right or south paw, Whether pot or a jar Whip it around, It still comes back hard. So easily do I W-H-I-P, My repitition with riches will bring the kilo business, I got kreole C-O bitches, for my niggas who slipped, Became prisoners, Treat's taped to the visitors. You already know what the business is Unnecessary commissary, boy we live this shit. Niggas Wanna bring the 80s 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, hustling in the hall Nah, I don?t spin on my head, I spin work in the pots, So I can spend my bread. Chorus: And I?m getting it I?m getting it I aint talking about it, I?m living it I?m getting it, straight getting it Get get get get get get get it boy !!!!Don't waste you time, fighting the life, stay your course, and you'll understand!!!!! This '87 state of mind that I?m in, In my prime, so for that time, I?m Rakim If it wasn?t for the crime that I was in But I wouldn?t be the guy who's rhymes it is that i'm in No pay no profit, P, I?ll repeat it to show you where the pot is Cherry M3s with the top back Red and green Gs 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 rhyming stuff we was in concert Chorus: Push, money over broads you got it, F**k Bush Chef, guess what I cooked Baked a lot of bread, And kept it off the books. Rockstars, 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 indicte me, Cause fish scales in my veins like a pisces The pirecs pot roll up my sleeves, Turn one into two like a Siamese twin when it end Imma 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. Chorus:

Publisher: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., EMI Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group
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