Tonart: B minor•
Verse 1
Bm
Ay yo shorty, yo that's my word,
oh y 'all smellin' y 'all piss
F#m
F
G
Yo anybody be caught flingin' over here,
F#m
I'm returnin' unless my world
E
F
G
Anything from 220 to 140, that's mine,
G#dim
y 'all niggas step the fuck up,
Am
A#
y 'all niggas ain't crazy for real
Faug
A
G
Yo, the things ain't
F#m
comin' fast enough,
F
Eaug
G
there is no cut that's clear enough
I can't fold, I need gold,
Eaug
I read up and reload,
F
A#
product must be sold
F
A
Bm
I'm deep down in the back streets,
in the heart of Medina
About to set off something more deep
than a misdemeanor
Under the subway,
waiting for the train to make noise
So I could blast a nigga
Bm
Who pushed up on the block
and made the dope sales drop
Em
Like the crash in the Dow Jones stock
Bm
I had to connect across seals
to catch more bills
Then whole bitches got birth
control kills
I'm in the park,
setting up a deal over blunt fire
Bum niggas sleeping on the bench,
Bm
P for Convo, the address of my condo
And how I change a nigga
Bm
And while he set up camp,
he got damp
With the snake through his heart,
G
I ripped his fuckin' fangs apart
Bm
Snake got smoke on the
set like Brandon Lee
Blown out the frame like Pan Am Flight 103
He got swung on, his lungs was torn
The kingpin just castled with his rook
Bm
A regular on the block,
the plate lucked out
For playing predator with a Glock,
F#
No neighborhood is rough enough
F
E
Eaug
G
There is no clip that's full enough
I can't fold, I need gold,
G#dim
F
I re -up and re -load
A#
A
Product must be sold to yoke, yoke
G
F#m
Things ain't coming fast enough
F
E
Eaug
G
There is no cut that's clear enough
I can't fold, I need gold,
E
F
I re -up and re -load
A#
F
Product must be sold to yoke
Faug
It's mandatory that I
Bm
supply all my troops
with mega firearms
Big apes and spread them out
like crops on a farm to get cream
Sometimes they will paint the scene
Like the last episode on gigs
G
Bm
and ever niggas plant bombs till the smoke from the blast becomes thick and flows through
G
Bm
all they knew he's gun sick his glock clicks like high heel shoes on parquet floors
G
mad sick stand on hills and invade wars
Bm
filthy foul shoveling dirt he's out to hurt for
instance to chop off hands to tap rope
his idols were locked down
airports and extorts
i'm in port catching ten percent of
Bm
i've been to ski resorts and finn hills and new keys
and had a skis making drops on snowmobiles
the plan was to expand catch seven
Figures release triggers and live large
G
and bigger than my nigga
Bm
who promised his mom's a
mansion with mad room
She died and still put a hundred grand
Em
Bm
in the tomb, open wounds
He hid behind closed doors
and still organizes crime
Bm
Things ain't coming fast enough
There is no cut that's clear enough
G
Bm
I can't fold, I need gold,
I re -up, I re -load,
product must be sold to you
G
Bm
F#
No neighborhood is rough enough
Bm
There is no clips that's full enough
G
Bm
I can't fold, I need gold.
I re -up and re -load.
Product must be sold to you.
G
Bm
If there's no clutch that's
tight enough.
If there is no clip, it's just fucked with us.
G
Bm
I can't fold, I need gold.
I re -up and re -load.
Em
Bm
Em
Bm
Product must be sold to you.
G
F#
F
E
G
G#dim
A
A#
A
Bm
F#
F
E
G
A
A#
A
Bm
G
Bm
Thanks
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TunerE A D G B E
Akkorde & SongtexteBm G F#m F E...
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