Dedicated

Back by popular demand, it's Magic Ded-, ded-, dedicated (yeah) When Carlito was dying He see the shadow of his girl dancing with the baby Like, "Fuck it, it's my time" But if God save me Maybe I'll erase any vice that could potentially bring harm to me Before I make a move, I think about it karmically Everything come back like a boomerang I'm black as Paul Mooney slang And all I pray for is health and a sustainable business And a faithful missus I see a lot of people try to be who they ain't We don't want money that fit in the bag, we want the bank Just to spread it around like icing on the cake White tiger out the cage, Mike Tyson in '88 Dedicated like jack boys on Melrose Smash and grab, yo this world became a hellhole "Stay cool" is what I tell those, (word) youngins So they don't end up in jail clothes, c'mon I dedicated my life, my life Dedicated my life, my life (dedicated) I dedicated my, my, uh, uh (you know what that is? It's the inspiration) Dedicated my (uh) Whole damn life If I wanted to now I could live an old man life Confronted with how the hood can use more funding More budgets for more teachers Financial literacy, more speeches Chefs come cook for me Look what it took for me The streets had its hooks in me Yeah People ask me what books to read Destruction of Black civilization, that's history Journal of Chris Columbus, that is what interests me Juneteenth holiday finally came and it pisses me Off, for the fact that we came in chains You'll be physically in pain Dedicated like Ricky Walters, Dougie and Dana Dane I dedicated my life, my life I dedicated my life, my life I dedicated my, uh Dedicated my (dedicated) I dedicated my life, my life I dedicated my life, my life I dedicated my Test, test, yeah, you know? To get to this point I might have to write a script, a manuscript Yo Yo, ghetto manners is you thuggin' me or asking? Finessin' me or pressin' me, when none of that is happenin' Accessory to murder not necessarily Manson I'm just a G in constructs, a Pelle Pel, or a Vanson Ratty clothes we haven't spoke in years, pat his coat Check his waistline, he spyin' on who has the most Best to leave me alone, I get in my zone Laughin' with African presidents while over the phone Shit be feeling like the last days, cash made Mirrors on the ceiling with a bad babe Same age with niggas be having mad grays Million Man March for real niggas, never last place Blazin' gats like young Haitian Jack Me and money go together like the 80s and crack Shorty aura like Kimora rockin' Baby Phat I'm droppin' bars nigga like I'm on stage with smack To my niggas who have staples from the navel up Healed up, had to chill awhile, lay in the cut Shorty tried to wop me down in the Mercedes truck Pulled up, cobblestone ground in my palatial hut Paradis for niggas still doing deals in the street Original Backwoods I fill 'em with green Am I a musician? Or am I a magician? No tricks, just real shit, straight out the kitchen Pure magic No tricks, no tricks No tricks No tricks, pure magic