Tonart: D minor
Verse 1
Dm
Love
Style
I really don't know what they
expect from me
When all these clean girls come
and get wet from me
They dance in the corner more sexily
It's them the kind of dance
we like to see
Make me bust two style
and get cheques for me
I take it to the bank, it feels there to be
Now when I let ski,
dem a cheque for me
People in the bookie, dem a bet for me
Coming up, running up, artically
Travel up to town and I ghost
the country
Murder, murder, all kind of style
I sing bigger picture when I get wiley
Em
Dm
Boy, I can hear son of a gun of a
Em
Dm
E
Dm
madman smile
Yeah
Hilton
Smith, big on the spliff
All dem a try for this, we still persist
To pump the black face with a stiff top lip
On the grip of the grip,
Dm
I watch life hard thinking who the hell's mad they're visiting
me or is it them and how the hell will I know
Em
My pocket full of dough I can
Dm
Em
't get no love
Dm
Superficial girls wanna give me a crab
Feeling the lust I can't trust a soul
Rock and roll taking its toll on my vein
Here lies the truth, here lies the pain
Here lies the pain, here lies the pain
What? I ain't a rapper I'm a psychic
link to a parallel world
Come let me take you to my lyrical life
Lyrical love, lyrical spirit
Givin' it my utmost, actual abstract
Mad themes and formats
Laps upon a personification
Of a one- stop gunner gun
Much too close to the rotted edge
But I still got my head
And I still spread love
And I still make way
Em
Dm
Tell me about your debts,
Outro 1
I don't even know
Dm
E
Dm
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