Blue Magic Lyrics

Yeah, when I tell you move, nigga, move, for them shots rain through
Flow cold, nah dope, you'se a joke, more a fool
I'm loose off the leesh, no dog, like a beast
You a feast that'll holler full moon, you lunch meat
Niggas jeans got swag, got keys to a Jag'
Team look like a Rubic's cube, but G's wearing flags
Some niggas sound like Crip, some niggas scream black
Some niggas know the clip, leave your brains on the ave
Lot-a, I'm so liver, you niggas like want nada
Told you niggas, I'm a problem, can't nothing you do to solve 'em
Hold 'em, and I'll expose 'em, glowing souls straight coasting
Told you niggas, I'm focused, so lame, stay off my scrotum
Faggot, it's blue magic, so potent have you ecstatic
Nigga Nerv spit crack, turn you little niggas to addict
Grip the magnum, spit 'em backwards, we loaded and keep it clapping
I'm twenty four hour action, no matter, I keep it cracking

[Fes Taylor:]
Yo, 59/50, I throw my fitted on
Nigga, we get it on, kinda like a pigeon call
They call us skywalking, loud mouths, die talking
And cook crack, same pot, momma fry pork in
The closest shit to Biggie Smalls, I figured ya'll
Been hoping I fall, don't wanna see my niggas fall
If pulling triggers stall, no, hope I hit the wall
Assault riffles, so how I'm gon' miss 'em all
f**k it, I diss 'em all, and my peeps sing
Like Christmas balls, so I got more hoes than Santa Clause
And hell no I ain't a fan of yours
I put a stop to your shit like when the camera pause
Prezzy told you bout the Lambo doors
So you can catch Taylor stunting on the Grand Concord
Respected on all shores, I'm Staten Island prue
Like blue magic, I have the fans nodding off
Yo, we call it blue magic, my work blew the gaskets
Look at the hurse, courtesy of my new classic
Haze in the box, I pop a few caskets
Wow like, raised in the box, like pitbull puffs
I can move acid, f**king with the white boy clubs
And I don't do fag shit, so it's like inviting me to lunch
And I never been a punchline, I'm a crunch time clapper
Nigga get hype, f**k a nigga up
Peep four records, come on son, you fronting to us
Cause, if it's really drama, ain't nothing to discuss
I chopped it in bags, then cop it and swag it
Pop 'em and tag 'em, rocking the flag shit
My dick like blue magic, she relapsing
Plus I'm still smoking like the weed passing

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these lyrics are submitted by kaan

Record Label(s): 2015 Chambermusik Special Products

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