[Intro]
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Back by popular demand, its Magic
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Ded—, ded—, dedicated (Yeah)
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[Verse 1]
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When Carlito was dying
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He see the shadow of his girl dancing with the baby
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Like, “Fuck it, its my time”, but if God save me
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Maybe Ill erase any vice that could potentially bring harm to me
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Before I make a move, I think about it karmically
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Everything come back like a boomerang
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Im black as Paul Mooney slang
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And all I pray for is health and a sustainable business
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And a faithful missus
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I see a lot of people try to be who they aint
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We dont want money that fit in the bag, we want the bank
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Just to spread it around likе icing on the cake
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White tigеr out the cage, Mike Tyson in 88
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Dedicated like jack boys on Melrose
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Smash and grab, yo, this world became a hellhole
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Stay cool is what I tell those (Word) youngins
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So they dont end up in jail clothes, come on
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[Chorus]
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I dedicated my life, my life
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Dedicated my life, my life (Dedicated)
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I dedicated my— (My)
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Uh, uh (You know what that is? Its the inspiration)
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Dedicated my— (Uh)
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[Verse 2]
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Whole damn life
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If I wanted to now, I could live an old man life
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Confronted with how the hood can use more funding
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More budgets for more teachers, financial literacy, more speeches
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Chefs come cook for me
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Look what it took for me, the streets had its hooks in me
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Yeah, people ask me what books to read
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Destruction of Black civilization, thats history
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Journal of Chris Columbus, that is what interests me
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Juneteenth holiday finally came and it pisses me
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Off for the fact that we came in chains, youll be physically in pain
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Dedicated like Ricky Walters, Dougie and Dana Dane
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[Chorus]
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I dedicated my life, my life
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I dedicated my life, my life (Dedicated)
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I dedicated my—, ah
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Dedicated my (Dedicated)
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I dedicated my life, my life
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I dedicated my life, my life
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I dedicated my—
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[Beat Switch]
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[Interlude]
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Test, test, yeah, you know?
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To get to this point
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I might have to write a script, a manuscript
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Yo, yo
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[Verse 3]
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Ghetto manners, is you thuggin me or asking?
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Finessin me or pressin me? Well none of that is happenin
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Accessory to murder, not necessarily Manson
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Im just a G in constructs, a Pelle Pel or a Vanson
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Ratty clothes, we havent spoke in years, pat his coat
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Check his waistline, he spyin on who has the most
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Best to leave me alone, I get in my zone
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Laughin with African presidents while over the phone
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Shit be feeling like the last days, cash made
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Mirrors on the ceiling with a bad babe
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Same age but niggas be having mad grays
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Million Man March for real niggas, never last place
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Blazin gats like young Haitian Jack
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Me and money go together like the 80s and crack
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Shorty aura like Kimora rockin Baby Phat
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Im droppin bars nigga like Im on stage with Smack
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To my niggas who have staples from the navel up
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Healed up, had to chill a while, lay in the cut
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Shorty tried to WAP me down in the Mercedes truck
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Pulled up, cobblestone ground in my palatial hut
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Paradis for niggas still doing deals in the street
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Original Backwoods, I fill em with green
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Am I a musician or am I a magician?
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No tricks, just real shit straight out the kitchen
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[Outro]
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Pure magic
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No tricks, no tricks
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No tricks
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No tricks, pure magic (Magic, magic, magic, magic, magic)
