Tonart: E minor
Verse 1
Ebm
Gb
Abm
Ebm
To everyone
who
bit the template and ran with it,
Gb
Abm
Homie, I see you,
Nothin' can escape my view,
Ebm
To all the off -beat rappers,
Abm
Fuck your lyrics,
Gb
Ab
Learn your lyrics,
Or you bust your lyrics,
Abm
Ebm
Especially to niggas in front,
Gb
Like they freestylin',
Abm
With that pre -arranged,
Rehearsed verse,
Ebm
You fuckin' lame,
This goes,
Gb
To fake niggas with corny shows,
Abm
I paid forty bones,
Just to watch you frontin' posts,
Ebm
To all these wannabe night bitches,
Gb
Actin' like bitches,
Abm
All I wanted was five,
Ebm
For this weed I twisted,
Gb
To the cats thinkin' they touchin'
me?
That's absurd.
Ebm
Cali, perhaps you've heard.
Gb
To the so -called purists, this here
is about
Abm
Bob's spirit, and anyone can
Ebm
feel it when they hear it.
Gb
To the rap critic, you
fuckin' heard.
Abm
Fuck you, your review, and your
Ab
Db
Abm
SAT birth.
Ab
Db
Abm
Ab
Ebm
Do these old new -booty rappers
Gb
screamin' back in the day?
Abm
You think old school is special
ed and
Big
Daddy came?
Ebm
Gb
Do these video hoes swearin' that you models,
Abm
and why you suckin'
for cash and gettin' fucked
Ebm
with champagne bottles
to the white boy rappers,
Gb
Abm
keep it true, I ain't for got
it was a time when yo'
ass would get mocked
Ebm
Gb
grease cats claimin' freestyle king,
write a song
Abm
I ain't tryin' to hear you rhyme about
Ebm
the crowd all night long
to the wannabe thug,
Db
you thinkin' cornrows and taxes
Abm
but it's finna keep me from breakin'
Ebm
my foot off in yo' ass
to these record execs hidin'
Abm
watch your back, snakes trap you,
Gb
see, pangas gone and yes men,
Db
Abm
screamin' about the guest list
Ebm
guess what, you can get this dick
to these revolutionaries who
Db
ain't read or trained today
Ab
Evict the blocks and insects,
Db
Abm
Ab
Db
we gon' keep you out of harm's way
Abm
Ab
Ebm
To these cowards posin' with guns,
Gb
thinkin' that's gon' stop me?
Abm
Your soul is now my property,
you shoulda shot me
Ebm
Welcome to these half -naked hookers,
Abm
Put some clothes on,
then we won't have nothin' to stare at
Dbm
To these rappin' ass show promoters,
please don't flow
Just introduce me, and collect my dough
Till these old internet busters
come up and speak
In fact, don't come up and speak,
you might get your ass beat
To the hype man,
you don't know his rappers rhyme
God, I'm running out of breath,
they're leaving blank spots half the time
To these cats with these heavy chains,
have you a tool?
I went to college,
I'm trying to pay for graduate school
To these players, these whole payers
You ain't no pimp, you a trick,
we make them pay for the dick
And to these hoes thinking they
finna get some of my bread
I made this money, you didn't, right
Abm
Ab
Db
Abm
Ted?
Ab
Db
Abm
Ab
Ebm
Gb
Abm
To these quote -unquote underground cats, guess what,
Ebm
you went commercial as soon as you sold your first rap
To the station claiming they were hip -hop lives,
Ab
Abm
Ebm
hip -hop lives in the streets, you eat a dick
Gb
To the cat in the crowd who wanna wear a frown,
Abm
why don't you go home or something, you're a fucking clown
Ebm
Gb
To these pocket mutators, I hate to be a hater,
Abm
but he was one of the greatest, and you can never duplicate him
Ebm
Gb
To the deadbeat daddies, you not a man,
Ab
Abm
Ebm
how you gon' have your kids running round without a dad
Ab
To the baby mamas trying to find a man,
Abm
Ebm
find yourself, you got repressing matters at hand
To anyone who's got a
Gb
problem with what I say
Tajay, it's an orc drama
Ebm
That's swaying through these
jaded folks
Db
Screaming fuck hip -hop,
fuck you motherfucker
I love hip -hop
Wie hat dir der Song gefallen?
TunerE A D G B E
Akkorde & SongtexteEbm Gb Abm Ab Db...
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