9TH WONDER


Blue Magic Revisited Lyrics

(Intro)
Roc-A-Fella records
Great Hova
Y'all already know what it is (oh shit!)
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**kin 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 me kilo business
I got creole C.O. bitches for my niggas
Who slipped, became prisoners, trees 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, 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 x2)
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

(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)
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

(Interlude: Gwen McCrae)
If we could start up new
I wouldn’t hesitate mmm
I’d open up my arms and take you back

(Verse 3)
Push (push) money over broads, you got it, f**k 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 whack rappers
Tried as they may, couldn't get me on the hook
D.A. wanna redyte 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'm a stand as a man never dying or
admiring these
Last of a dyin breed, so let the champagne pop
I partied for a while now I'm back to the block

(Hook)
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 light
Stay your course
And you’ll understand
(Get it boy!)

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