Tonart: G# minor
Verse 1
C
Uh,it's hard catchin' these old rhymes
B
Em
B
Em
I can't' remember these old rhymes
C
It's hard catchin' these old rhymes
Em
Verse 2
Em
[Kalage]
Shit we comin' after the
whack rappers
Studio gat- clappers slash
jackers
Them braggin' back- stabbin' non-
rappin' autographers
C
And I'm backed up like brake
lights don't beep me
B
That's some shit you ain't gon'
Em
see like a punch in a snake fight
B
Em
Or a preacher that play dice
It's another level bitch
And I'm sick of rappers braggin'
bout they diamond bezelled wrists
C
My ice this, my ice that
I bet I'll melt yo shit
Em
B
Cause Shawn J come hotter
Em
than the Devil's dick
Couldn't beat me if I was yo dick
We were in the movies
Watchin' porn flicks in 3D
And you were PeeWee
C
I don't blow shit out of proportion
B
I'll stuff you in yo mama's stomach
Em
Rap her then make her have an abortion
The Vince Carter of rap,
Shawn tall and brown skinned
Dunkin' dick in yo bitch
with my arm in the rim
C
Keep yo hoe I chase dough
Burnin' rappers till sun- up
Em
And jackin' off layin' on my
back tryin' to come up
To get grip
Shawn slick with bricks for chips
I flip one- fifth of a brick
Nicks go for 6
C
Tug a four- fifth with more glits than 6 twists
B
I don't sniff but I spit
Em
Catch a whiff nit- wit
Slick 6 style switch
Like a whip stick shift
I stole rap like the grinch stole Christmas
C
My clique pissed tryin' to
hit licks to get grip
Tryin' to make more bread
Em
than Bisquick Biscuits
This misfit pissed cause I hit his chick
He mad cause I'm Indiana like Rik Smits
underground like the Ninja Turtle
B
He want to fight but he type
Em
that couldn't injure Urkel
I play the cut though
Mr. Nice guy slash cut throat
Spit doo- doo like you butt
blow
C
UH- OHHHH y'all best to get runnnin'
Em
Why? Shhh! I hear Field Mob comin'
Verse 3
B
Em
Can't stop the Mob
C
B
Can't stop
B
Em
Boondox
Can't stop Kalage
B
Em
C
B
Repeat
11x's
Verse 4
B
[Boondox Blax]
Em
Uh, it's you boy Boondox aka
Smoke from the Mob
That charcoal color lyrical
criminal spittin' flows from yo ?
C
I break bricks down in yo hood
and take over yo block
Em
Whatever you want I got it from the
South Coast to the Rocks
Open up shop totin' a glock with
a scope on the top
Two clips in each ankle tucked
low in my sock
C
Like lil' whodi Wayne ? I'll have
yo block scorchin' hot
B
You need oven gloves to get
yo mail out of yo box
Em
To you rappers thinkin' you
gonna come control my block
Check yo face you see a infrared
now way it's not
C
Close to yo eye and in yo ears and
all up in yo teeth too
So many red dots look like
Em
you sick with the measles
My clique hold heat too
But I roll with more people
Macks like Rudy Ray Moore,
Goldie and Seigel
C
Like Bebe we don't die we multiply
like wet gremlins
It's best you hide the baguettes listen
Em
We the best spittin' gold rhymes
Lyrics stickin' to yo brain as if
yo pillow was porcupine
I poke yo tummy like Doughboy
Makin' ya bummy
Em
Droppin' lyrical bows
Smokey done it in two years and 4 weeks
I ain't lying
If Jigga Jordan
You can call me the Kobe
C
Bryant of this rap shit
So go get more practice
B
I skipped college and high school
? I ain't even pass it
Em
B
Em
Barely made it past the 10th grade
You been writin' for 20 years
And still writin' and I been in
this shit getting' paid
C
Spittin' raid at you cockroaches
It makes you move out the way
if you did not notice
Em
Em
Here come the
C
B
Mob
Em
C
Em
Hook
Outro 1
C
B
Em
C
Em
C
Em
Wie hat dir der Song gefallen?
TunerE A D G B E
Akkorde & SongtexteEm C B
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