Roc-a-fella records The imperial Skateboard P Great Hova Y'all already know what it is (Oh Shit!) C'mon!
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 and Bailey with the pies No matter how you slice it I'm your motherfucking guy Just like a B-Boy with 360 waves Do the same with the pot, still come back beige. Whether writers are par, whether powder the jar Whip it around, it still comes back hard. So easily do I w-h-i-p My repetition with wrists will bring you kilo biggers. I got Creole C.O. bitches For my niggas who slipped, became prisoners Trees taped to the visitors You already know what the business is Unnecessary commissary, boy we live this shit Niggas wanna bring the 80s back It'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 (hustling in the hall) Nah, I don't spin on my head I spin work in the pots so I can spend my bread
[Chorus] 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 it boy (Don't waste you 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 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 rhyming stuff we was in concert
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 wack 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 dying or admiring these Last of a dying breed, so let the champagne pop I partied for a while now I'm back to the block