Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Blue As I Can Be, artist - Blu & Exile. Album song Miles, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 16.07.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Dirty Science
Song language: English
Blue As I Can Be |
«If it ain’t red then it must be blue» |
«No matter where I go, or how far I roam» |
«Blue, baby, just like yourself» |
«Exile and B-L» |
The Los Angeles city skyline is like a photograph of my mind |
I could feel the sea’s breeze every time that I rhyme |
Cool guy, coulda played trumpet in a suit and tie |
Barbers couldn’t cut us, move a line so it’s U-N-I-versal |
First song I ever recorded |
Felt important, I had to paint my portrait enormous |
Clouds forming, the sun falls and darkness rises |
Yo it’s like this every time I close my eyelids |
Bro I grew up in the city of violence, was known for the riots |
And now that I’m grown, I stay blown all alone |
Was thinking bout those who didn’t make it |
In my zone dreaming bout how far we could take it |
From the basement, I never been one to run from |
Guns sung every night where I come from, the blood runs (B-L) |
Never fail, you can tell hell |
I would never sell out, even if I’m on sale, retail |
Presales, you can see God in the details |
Midnight Blue, Kenny Burrell shocked the world like the law got |
Caught in the third rail, burn Ls |
Thinkin bout my daughter’s future walking outta jail, so thorough |
Even as a kid, I wanted to be big |
Like Jigga, «Can I Live?,» ten siblings need a crib |
Like the ones on Cribs, niggas facing long bids |
Tryna make it where I live, real talk it’s common sense, I’m |
«I am the nappy kid from Cali |
«Every time I see you it’s like the first time I meet you» |
«The nappy kid from Cali» |
«You ain’t me» |
«A never-ending saga when I rap to these beats» |
«I got my props off the rhymes that I invented |
'Cause I spoke my mind and I meant it» |
«Exile and B-L» |
I fell onto the planet, knowledge, born building understanding |
Dropping poems on the illest canvas |
South Central, Los Angeles, where niggas hold pistols and start scandals |
I picked up a pencil and wrote anthems, my city mold champions |
Talent show battling, managing life challenging |
And I would write traveling unraveling thoughts |
Pass the mic before I pass you the blunt |
Smash the stage then I pass up the cost, acting a fool |
Rapping was cool, sorta something we could actually do |
Mastered my views, get my cash stacking after my dues |
Classic tunes, platinum plaques back-to-back with my crew |
Black and blue, back to rocking black on black at the show |
Pack up the show, black the block, we gotta block out the news |
Blackout at shows, no Glock, black proud and I’m Blu |
I used to sing James Brown, I used to talk through towns |
Tearing down egos, rocking gold, wearing a crown |
Airing our style, all hail to the king, hair grew out wild long time ago |
Ten years exactly, where are they now? |
I’ve been B-L, back when they was clapping at fools |
After school for acting cool, I just had a backpack full of raps |
Avenue Blu is finna battle you spit |
45 Calliber, raps that’ll dismantle you, my album’s done, I’m back |
Told the homie, «Don't bang, just hang with me» |
Cribmania, the whole gang was me, it’s so gangsta to be |
«Blue,» «True blue when I bust» |
«I am» «B-L-U» |
«The cloud becomes black and the sky becomes blue» |
«Out of the blue, time for a new young king to rule: |
«But if I have to, I go all out with no mic» |
«I might be the color blue» |
«A new fresh rap» |
«Exile and B-L» |
Yeah, just when I thought I was blanking out, I blanked out |
Back in the day, I used to dream about banking out, and I’m banked out |
With change, change |
Make cent, pay dues now pay rent |
Same shoes I work in, I church in |
Service, the shirt fits, the roof over my head, the bed under my ass |
I hear rumbling, put my ear to the wall |
Nothing but jazz, grandad musta had that on blast, oh here they come again |
James Brown put eight drummers in his band |
The promoter put 200 in my hand, I’m a mad man |
Track under the rap just to match to the gas can |
Last dance, Miles Davis, Coltrane, Philly Joe |
Fuck that, brought it back, Max Roach |
Wack hoes got smoked quicker than the last roach |
Bad joke, we pack boats when black folks had a chance |
Fuck slavery, we build pyramids with a helping hand |
Made a classic with this rap shit, ain’t look back since |
Build a black fence around my mansion, I’m a black man |
Black hand, black fists clenched, activist |
Black Panther Party bigger pistol packing wrapping Christmas gifts |
I’m gifted rappin', if you can get it grabbing grams |
Grip it on another level take a stand |
Hate the hate and shake the salt |
Break the vault and quake the asphalt |
But I spark the bark until I’m retarded |