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Artist: Jay-Z
Album:  American Gangster
Song:   Blue Magic
Typed by:

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

[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 motherfuckin 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. bitches for my niggaz
who slipped, became prisoners, trees taped to the visitors
You already know what the business is
Unnecessary commissary boy we live this shit
Niggaz 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

[Chorus] (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


[Verse 3]
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 whack rappers
Tried 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'm a stand as a man never dyin or admirin these
Last of a dyin breed, so let the champagne pop
I partied for a while now I'm back to the block