Magic lyrics

by

Juicy J


[Intro]
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
Like I do magic, like I do magic
b*tch, gang, gang
Like I do magic, like I do magic
Ayy, ayy, ayy

[Verse]
Run up on me and this sh*t gon' get tragic, ayy
Make a n*gga disappear, like I do magic
The police get behind me, I disappear, like I do magic
I whip a deuce into a four, like I do magic
I dunk on a b*tch, like I'm with the Lakers, they call me Magic
I'm gettin' to that dough and I probably f*cked more hoes than Magic
You gettin' money, but when you goin' broke, they disappear, magic
They say Lud Foe how you blow up? I don't know, it was magic
My homie caught a case, we caught the witness, they disappeared, magic
f*ck CPD, they ran in my house, they ain't found me, I was in the attic
I got your b*tch up in the Wraith, looked up, she thought it was magic
This ain't no fully automatic pistol but n*gga I'm shootin' it rapid
Why your b*tch keep callin' my phone, she got a fat ass, she want me to tap it
Run up on me if you think it's an act and this MAC have you stumbling backwards
b*tch, all of your homies in caskets, we be stuffin' them in Backwoods
b*tch, I'll pull up and start blastin', I'll do a hit and start laughin'
Smoking opp pack
Where your gun at? you better tote that
I'm off the dome, I ain't even wrote that
It's a cold world, where your coat at?
You get face shots, like a Kodak
I'm lookin' for you n*gga, where your block at?
Ain't one up top, he forgot to c*ck that
Drive a six-trey, then unlock that
Hit the block then I white chalk that
I fall in the club like, where them b*tches at?
We in minivans, lookin' for your mans, huh
Where them n*ggas at?
sh*t that you do in the streets, never mention that
He ain't know I have my heat
I looked at that n*gga like b*tch who you flinchin' at?
I'm Chef Boyardee, I f*ck up the pot, show me where the kitchen at
We in the club and she can't keep focused, I'm where all her attention at
b*tch I was checkin' attendance, where was your attendance at?
Don't say you want war with us, 'cause if you start with us, b*tches gon' f*ck around, finish that
Pull on your block, swingin' this brand new Glock forty like a tennis racket
Get knocked right out of your socks, thought we was gon' box, but no I'ma kill his ass
This clip full of hot sh*t, that's right, I'ma fill his ass
We hit this f*ck n*gga, let off thirty shots and it still ain't hit, sh*t
My b*tch got an ass so fat
Sittin' right on her back, her jeans, she can't even fit
This pill got me rollin' hard
I got cotton mouth, so b*tch I can't even spit
Don't give no f*ck who you gon' get
b*tch, we gon' kill you and whoever you with
Try walkin' in my shoes, they don't even fit
'Cause b*tch I'm real as it get, real as it get
[Outro]
Gang, gang, gnag, gang, gang, gang, b*tch
Skrrt, skrrt, baow, baow, baow, baow, baow baow baow, baow
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