Roc-A-Fella Records

The imperial Skateboard P

Great Hova

Y'all already know what it is! (Oh shit!)

C'mon! (Woooo!)

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

And 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 comes back hard

So easily do I W-H-I-P

My repetition with wristses'll bring the kilo bidness

I got Creole C.O. bitches for my ****

Who slipped, became prisoners, treats taped to the visitors

You already know what the bid-ness is

Unnecessary commissary, boy, we live this shit

**** 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, hustlin' in the hall

Nah, I don't spin on my head

I spin my work in the pot, so I can spend my bread

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

G—G—G—Get— Get— Get it, boy

Don't waste your time

Fighting the life

Stay your course

And you'll understand (Get it, boy)

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 who 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

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

G—G—G—Get— Get— Get it, boy

Don't waste your time

Fighting the life

Stay your course

And you'll understand (Get it, boy)

Ugh, 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 star, 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, ugh

D.A. wanna indict me

'Cause fishscale's 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'ma 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 gettin' it, I'm gettin' it

I ain't talkin' about it, I'm livin' it

I'm gettin' it, straight gettin' it

G—G—G—Get— Get— Get it, boy

Don't waste your time

Fighting the life

Stay your course

And you'll understand (Get it, boy)

"'Blue Magic'—that's a brand name. Like 'Pepsi'—that's a brand name. I stand behind it. I guarantee it. They know that, even if they don't know me any more than they know the— the Chairman of General Mills. My man..."