Lyrics The Blue - The Clean

The Blue

Roc-A-Fella records
The imperial Skateboard P
Grey Hova
Ya’ll already know what it is
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 fucking 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 a W-H-I-P
My repitition with riches will bring the kilo business
I got creole 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
And I’m getting it I’m getting it
I ain’t 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 your waste your time, fighting the law, state your voice,
and you’ll understand)
Get it boy
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
And I’m getting it I’m getting it
I ain’t 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 your waste your time, fighting the law, state your voice,
and you’ll understand)
Get it boy
Push, money over broads you got it
Fuck Bush
Chef, guess what I cooked?
Baked a lot of bread
And kept it off the books
Rock stars
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 indict me
Cause fish scales in my veins like a Pisces
The Pyrex 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
And I’m getting it I’m getting it
I ain’t 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 your time, fighting the law, state your voice, and you’ll
understand)
Get it boy