Young Guru - Blue Magic lyrics

[Produced by The Neptunes] [Intro] Roc-A-Fella Records The imperial Skateboard P Great Hova Y'all already know what it is (oh sh**!) C'mon! [Verse 1] 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 motherf**in guy 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 come back hard So easily do I W-H-I-P My repitition with wrists'll bring you kilo figures I got creole C.O. b**hes for my n***as Who slipped, became prisoners, trees taped to the visitors You already know what the business is Unnecessary commissary boy we live this sh** n***as 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, hustle in the hall (hustle in the hall) Nah, I don't spin on my head I spin work in the pots so I can spend my bread [Hook] (Pharrell) 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 [Verse 2] 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 whose 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 [Hook] [Verse 3] Push (push) money over broads, you got it, f** 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, 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 [Hook]