Tonart: A minor•
Verse 1
Am
C
Am
D
C
I see
Am
C
Am
D
C
now you got me
blast off, lift off
C
Am
D
Time for me to twist off a vocal fist -off
C
Am
into your dome piece, home piece
C
I heard your chick wants to bone
Am
D
Rugby, respected like
C
Bugsy
Am
C
Don't even ask me, cause I'm living lovely,
Am
D
born to succeed, foes bleed, true indeed
C
Am
The oral combat will rub that
Am
D
When I first busted on the scene
C
Am
Nigga, you knew I had more
than a gangster lean
C
Am
I mean, my lean is gangster
C
Am
I stick an
MC for a spot and sign the blood
D
Am
D
C
Boo ya, cut to your face as I ruin ya
Am
Clown ya, dumbfound ya
Am
the fuck out your girl
D
If she steps into my world,
C
But that ass I'll polish
Am
And if the hooker runs her mouth,
C
Am
But then you'll sweat her
Cause like my leather,
Am
D
Your style stinks, kid, you're garbage
C
Am
An d if you keep talkin' shit,
I'ma make you pay homage
C
Am
Cause the
G to the
RU
C
Am
Came too far to let you slide through
Am
D
and who the fuck are you?
C
Am
Anyway, I catch more rec in a minute than
C
if you rhyme for ten days
Am
D
Throw the cash in the pot
C
Am
You better dash, nigga,
C
Am
D
C
cause I'm blowin' up the spot
Am
C
Flow escaping the explosion, those who are dozing, I close in,
Am
D
Am
set the thermostat at sub -zero, they're frozen
C
Extreme temperatures from my mic, stuns amateurs,
Am
D
C
unable to conquer the gang, I am out of church
J .Rudah,
Big
C
Am
Shug, and the group home, keeping it real,
D
no playing niggas are grown
C
Am
C
Am
I'm way past the kid shit, brothers already did shit,
D
C
you want some props, yo dawg, here's a biscuit
Am
C
Am
I'm a smooth nigga and my groove's bigger, move nigga,
D
C
and we don't care who's with ya, got the picture?
C
hear the burners go pop
Am
Gangstar motherfucker, what,
D
Am
blowin' up the spot
I'm bout to blow the fuck up
I'm bout to blow the fuck up
I'm bout to blow the fuck up
I'm bout to blow the fuck up
I go from one format,
C
then switch to the next
Am
Reflex sets the pitch,
D
C
vocals riff through projects
Am
C
Crazy shouts I heard all around
Am
Cause the gangsta sound carries
D
C
my weight per pound
Am
I got some brand new tims, so
C
Am
MCs sing new hymns
D
You better repent, come corrective,
C
Am
represent, or get stomped
C
Smack the slot cap, heel back,
And now you cling to my sack
C
Get off, hands off, stay off, your way off
Am
You rookie motherfuckers,
D
C
it's the finals, not the playoffs
Am
I break you up into particles,
C
Am
into small pieces
D
C
Because your brain is minuscule,
C
Come learn the tools of the trade
D
so go to school and get played
C
Am
Just when you're thinking
Am
Up steps the niggas who be
D
Am
blowing up the spot
Outro 1
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