“Blue” is a song about a love that is persisting in the discomfort of the person experiencing the emotion. Ed Sheeran reflects on love lost, and although he wishes his former partner find happiness, he cannot but admit his feelings are still very much there. He expresses the realization that he might never find another on this stringed instrumental by Aaron Dessner.
Yo nephew, give me some of that No Limit shit
Yeah,
We got my nigga Fiend in the house
C-Murder in this motherfucker
Mystikal all up in this bitch
Goldie Loc,
My nephew Silkk the Shocker
Oh yeah, we got something for the ladies too
Mia X, run this bitch
Lyrical arsonist, lady alligator
Down South, hustler, former weight smuggler
I'm Mother, of the Tank, gave birth to an army
Guerrilla millionaires, so don't even ask, if you wanna
Get to clapping, soldier action specialty of style
We made the whole world respect the underground while
Some of y'all niggas talk shit and get mad
Cause we did it with a foot up your ass, and it's still there
I cares not about your click or the block
I'm still that same bitch to run up in your spot and knock you off
Broad, with the cause (yeah) bitch on a mission
Keep them niggas by they nuts while you hoes be dick kissin
Missing the game, damn bitch it's written in plain ebonics
So shake that come-up off you brain and do the knowledge
Mia X, kicking off the ghetto symphony
Next soldier up, tell em who the FUCK you be
What? It's Fiend y'all
Put me in the ring with real MC's, and watch em run for cover
And hiding in trees, to escape the mic that I breathe on
Bleed on, exceed on!
Weak rappers with titles after twelve
Hit a bell that's what I'll feed on!
Microphone Don, walking flesh, talking bomb
Bringing harm, to the calm, and, them be alarmed
It's the African, oh, you wanna battle again?
I'll turn, you and your mans, to my yesterday plans
Oh damn, toting two pistols like Yosemite Sam
Old man be grand, loud as the Southern band
Pickups and caravans, the soldier, that could, that can
I would be the man, but God beat me to them plans
Next up, on the M-I-C
C-Murder, get busy for the symphony
I be's that nigga on the tank, always tripping never slipping
Have you reminiscing and missing, that fool in your picture
Call me Bossalinie bitch without the Mo's at shows
And fuck dose who oppose (why?) we running them hoes
Three-hundred and sixty-five motherfucking days a year
I have your fool staggering just like a bottle of beer
You niggaz running from the cops, well I ain't running no mo'
I flip the bird when I swerve, man, FUCK them hoes
I'm crazy my nagga, but uh, I thought y'all knew that, shit
Oh you ain't see the news? Shit I'm the nigga with the true tat
Ask my nigga Keno, shit, I just don't give a fuck
And if you run up wrong, I'ma fuck you up, you bitch you
Next up, on the M-I-C
Silkk the Shocker get busy on the symphony
Now would I COME THIS FAR FUCKER? If I didn't sound like a hit
Y'all didn't know what the fuck y'all thinking bout
You sound like a bitch (bitch!)
Shit it sound like a wish, you know when you got a motherfucking hit,
Bitch?? When it sound like this!
Or you fake niggas get enough heart, and try to bust a
Rhyme at this click
Fuck around and miss, then fuck around and get
Found in a ditch
Gotta labels give me dough, when they find I can, gross this much
Freestyle shit, you can tell em I ain't, wrote this stuff
Silkk the Shocker, KLC perv and mash like, Snoop and Dre nigga
Y'all can relate to what it takes to get a contract like, MJ nigga
It ain't where you from; it's where the, fuck you at
N-O-L-I-M-I-T, Top Dogg, and I'm fucking with that
Next up, on the M-I-C
Mystikal get busy on the symphony
Who shit motherfucker god damn!
I keep it hype, bitch I'm the man!
When the FUCK you ever heard somebody say that they don't say my song
Or that I don't roll on every fuckin verse I'm rapping on
(That nigga Mystikal tighter than a motherfucker)
I came up off of _Peter Piper_ bells and the LL's _Bad_
Nee nigga to be pissed off with me
Cause their old lady they call me their baby
MC's piling up and crowding up, but I'm their FAVORITE
The type to fly buyin a Z-28 IROC
And chop you in your motherfucking face
Your album ain't tight, what in the fuck is you pushing?
You played out just like old woman pussy
Next up, on the M-I-C
Goldie Loc, get busy on the symphony
Now watch me put these haters to the test, accumulating with my stress
Fold em fuck em fifty, get the shit up off my chest
Releasing anger, all natural gangsta energy
Goldie Loc the name, Dogg House game
Motherfuckers better start backing up (what up what up)
We in the Tank punk busters, motherfuckers don't wanna see us loc'd up
Little Goldie Loc, Goldie Locks the same thing
Smashin for the hood, cause I wanted to gang-bang
Last up, I believe that's me
Snoop Dogg, light up the mic for the symphony
This jam is dedicated to all non-optimistics
That thought I wasn't coming, out with some exquisite, rhymes
But that's OK, cause now I'm back
To kill all the rumors, and straighten the facts
Like umm, doing bad, getting ganked for my bank
Now you all on my dick when you see I'm true Tank Dogg
You say, "Mmmm mmm mmm! Ain't that something
Dogg I bought yo' album, my nigga, that shit is bumping
I apologize, I'm sorry for the drama
Can I get your autograph for my baby momma?"
Shit I'm setting it off, letting it off, busting
Hustling, rushing, dusting motherfuckers
Dropping the heat, lock up the street, we 'posed to
I put this pistol in your mouth, now what you gon' do?
Top of the line, first class
I pop a cap in yo' ass, then pop some more in the glass
Too legit to quit, I'm spitting gangsta shit
Man fuck all that yapping, we bout that gun clapping
No Limit, yeah, that's what's happening
Fuck all that yapping, we bout that gun clapping
Yeah
In the real world, talk is cheap
Actions speak louder than words
No Limit Records, here to protect and serve
Yeah,
We got my nigga Fiend in the house
C-Murder in this motherfucker
Mystikal all up in this bitch
Goldie Loc,
My nephew Silkk the Shocker
Oh yeah, we got something for the ladies too
Mia X, run this bitch
Lyrical arsonist, lady alligator
Down South, hustler, former weight smuggler
I'm Mother, of the Tank, gave birth to an army
Guerrilla millionaires, so don't even ask, if you wanna
Get to clapping, soldier action specialty of style
We made the whole world respect the underground while
Some of y'all niggas talk shit and get mad
Cause we did it with a foot up your ass, and it's still there
I cares not about your click or the block
I'm still that same bitch to run up in your spot and knock you off
Broad, with the cause (yeah) bitch on a mission
Keep them niggas by they nuts while you hoes be dick kissin
Missing the game, damn bitch it's written in plain ebonics
So shake that come-up off you brain and do the knowledge
Mia X, kicking off the ghetto symphony
Next soldier up, tell em who the FUCK you be
What? It's Fiend y'all
Put me in the ring with real MC's, and watch em run for cover
And hiding in trees, to escape the mic that I breathe on
Bleed on, exceed on!
Weak rappers with titles after twelve
Hit a bell that's what I'll feed on!
Microphone Don, walking flesh, talking bomb
Bringing harm, to the calm, and, them be alarmed
It's the African, oh, you wanna battle again?
I'll turn, you and your mans, to my yesterday plans
Oh damn, toting two pistols like Yosemite Sam
Old man be grand, loud as the Southern band
Pickups and caravans, the soldier, that could, that can
I would be the man, but God beat me to them plans
Next up, on the M-I-C
C-Murder, get busy for the symphony
I be's that nigga on the tank, always tripping never slipping
Have you reminiscing and missing, that fool in your picture
Call me Bossalinie bitch without the Mo's at shows
And fuck dose who oppose (why?) we running them hoes
Three-hundred and sixty-five motherfucking days a year
I have your fool staggering just like a bottle of beer
You niggaz running from the cops, well I ain't running no mo'
I flip the bird when I swerve, man, FUCK them hoes
I'm crazy my nagga, but uh, I thought y'all knew that, shit
Oh you ain't see the news? Shit I'm the nigga with the true tat
Ask my nigga Keno, shit, I just don't give a fuck
And if you run up wrong, I'ma fuck you up, you bitch you
Next up, on the M-I-C
Silkk the Shocker get busy on the symphony
Now would I COME THIS FAR FUCKER? If I didn't sound like a hit
Y'all didn't know what the fuck y'all thinking bout
You sound like a bitch (bitch!)
Shit it sound like a wish, you know when you got a motherfucking hit,
Bitch?? When it sound like this!
Or you fake niggas get enough heart, and try to bust a
Rhyme at this click
Fuck around and miss, then fuck around and get
Found in a ditch
Gotta labels give me dough, when they find I can, gross this much
Freestyle shit, you can tell em I ain't, wrote this stuff
Silkk the Shocker, KLC perv and mash like, Snoop and Dre nigga
Y'all can relate to what it takes to get a contract like, MJ nigga
It ain't where you from; it's where the, fuck you at
N-O-L-I-M-I-T, Top Dogg, and I'm fucking with that
Next up, on the M-I-C
Mystikal get busy on the symphony
Who shit motherfucker god damn!
I keep it hype, bitch I'm the man!
When the FUCK you ever heard somebody say that they don't say my song
Or that I don't roll on every fuckin verse I'm rapping on
(That nigga Mystikal tighter than a motherfucker)
I came up off of _Peter Piper_ bells and the LL's _Bad_
Nee nigga to be pissed off with me
Cause their old lady they call me their baby
MC's piling up and crowding up, but I'm their FAVORITE
The type to fly buyin a Z-28 IROC
And chop you in your motherfucking face
Your album ain't tight, what in the fuck is you pushing?
You played out just like old woman pussy
Next up, on the M-I-C
Goldie Loc, get busy on the symphony
Now watch me put these haters to the test, accumulating with my stress
Fold em fuck em fifty, get the shit up off my chest
Releasing anger, all natural gangsta energy
Goldie Loc the name, Dogg House game
Motherfuckers better start backing up (what up what up)
We in the Tank punk busters, motherfuckers don't wanna see us loc'd up
Little Goldie Loc, Goldie Locks the same thing
Smashin for the hood, cause I wanted to gang-bang
Last up, I believe that's me
Snoop Dogg, light up the mic for the symphony
This jam is dedicated to all non-optimistics
That thought I wasn't coming, out with some exquisite, rhymes
But that's OK, cause now I'm back
To kill all the rumors, and straighten the facts
Like umm, doing bad, getting ganked for my bank
Now you all on my dick when you see I'm true Tank Dogg
You say, "Mmmm mmm mmm! Ain't that something
Dogg I bought yo' album, my nigga, that shit is bumping
I apologize, I'm sorry for the drama
Can I get your autograph for my baby momma?"
Shit I'm setting it off, letting it off, busting
Hustling, rushing, dusting motherfuckers
Dropping the heat, lock up the street, we 'posed to
I put this pistol in your mouth, now what you gon' do?
Top of the line, first class
I pop a cap in yo' ass, then pop some more in the glass
Too legit to quit, I'm spitting gangsta shit
Man fuck all that yapping, we bout that gun clapping
No Limit, yeah, that's what's happening
Fuck all that yapping, we bout that gun clapping
Yeah
In the real world, talk is cheap
Actions speak louder than words
No Limit Records, here to protect and serve
Add your thoughts
Log in now to tell us what you think this song means.
Don’t have an account? Create an account with SongMeanings to post comments, submit lyrics, and more. It’s super easy, we promise!
More Featured Meanings
Blue
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran
Trouble Breathing
Alkaline Trio
Alkaline Trio
While the obvious connections with suicide or alcoholism could be drawn easily, more subtly this song could be about someone who views the world through a negative lens constantly and how as much as the writer tries to show the beauty in the world, this person refuses to see it. It's one or another between the rope and the bottle. There is no good option for this person. They can't see it. Skiba sings it in a kind of exasperated way like He's tired of hearing this negative view constantly and just allowing that person to continue feeling the way they feel knowing he can't do anything about it. You can hear it when he says maybe you're a vampire.
Somewhere Only We Know
Keane
Keane
Per the FAQ on Keane's website, Keane's drummer Richard Hughes, stated the following:
"We've been asked whether "Somewhere Only We Know" is about a specific place, and Tim has been saying that, for him, or us as individuals, it might be about a geographical space, or a feeling; it can mean something individual to each person, and they can interpret it to a memory of theirs... It's perhaps more of a theme rather than a specific message... Feelings that may be universal, without necessarily being totally specific to us, or a place, or a time..."
With the nostalgic sentiment and the overall tone of the song, I think Keane is attempting to express a Portuguese term known as 'saudade', which does not have a direct English translation but roughly means "that which we remember because it is gone."
Indigo
Of Mice & Men
Of Mice & Men
This track is about is about questioning why the sky would choose to be blue if it had the choice to be anything else, “blue also meaning sad,” states frontman Aaron Pauley. “It's about comforting a loved one in a time of loss by telling them you feel blue, too.”
Me and Johnny
Matt Paxton
Matt Paxton
Moyet later described how her song "Goodbye 70's" had been inspired by her disillusionment with how the late-1970s punk scene had turned out, saying, "'Goodbye 70's' is about punk and not caring how you were dressed, and then I discovered that so many of my friends that I'd thought it all really meant something to just saw it as another trend... That's what 'Goodbye 70's' was all about, about how sour the whole thing became."