Tonart: G# minor•
Intro 1
G#m
E
F#
D#m
G#m
D#m
G#m
F#
E
F#
Verse 1
E
the shit is in my blood
F#
The Congress couldn't cage
D#m
his middle finger so the judge
G#m
I'm rotting on this paper,
E
trying to kill him with the buzz
F#
So I'm rotting on this hatin',
D#m
so I'm sitting up above
G#m
Cuz I gotta make it,
E
this shit is in my blood
F#
The coppers come in cages,
D#m
metal fingers to the judge
G#m
I'm rotting on this paper,
E
trying to kill him with the buzz
F#
So I'm rotting on this hatin',
D#m
so I'm sitting up above
G#m
E
Cuz I had to flip a few
to get us through
F#
Prick, it's true in principle
D#m
when you can't do the rent
And your rent is due,
G#m
E
forget a interview, verse,
song, interlude
F#
Listen, Buddhist niggas
D#m
who these hustlers trying to ridicule?
G#m
I've been invincible,
E
doing what they intend to do
F#
D#m
A lyrical miracle, little nigga,
E
Who is better, not a veteran alive?
F#
Can't match up what I'm measuring,
D#m
I'm heavenly supplied
G#m
I'm peddling some medicine
E
to ratting up your eyes
F#
You wouldn't play corners
D#m
on an elevator ride
G#m
I can tell you ain't as wise,
E
F#
the hustler is global, you're local
D#m
And only thing you're doublin'
G#m
is bothers, I told you
E
The soldier is sick and the
blow that I'm spittin'
F#
D#m
HD vision is written,
your flow need prescriptions
G#m
Listen, I'm a pro,
E
that's destined to blow
F#
Batter up your dough,
D#m
I'm nicer than whoever you know
G#m
Writer, I gotta make it,
E
this shit is in my blood
D#m
metal fingers set a judge
Plotting on his paper,
E
trying to kill him with the buzz
F#
So I'm riding on his haters,
D#m
so I'm setting up the bomb
G#m
E
Cause I gotta make it, make it
F#
The shit is in my blood, blood
The coppers cutting cages,
D#m
middle fingers to the judge
Fuck em!
G#m
Plotting on his paper,
E
trying to kill him with the buzz
F#
So I'm riding on his haters,
D#m
so I'm setting up the bomb
F#
I see you really came to kill nig gas
on this one right here
D#m
When these niggas gonna learn?
G#m
When they gon' see,
E
F#
they can't fuck with my n***a
D#m
The writer of writers,
G#m
J .R. motherfuckin' writer
F#
F#
You heard the man,
D#m
G#m
three albums lined up
E
F#
Now n****s better catch up
G#m
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TunerE A D G B E
Akkorde & SongtexteG#m E F# D#m
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