Tonart: E major•
Intro 1
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F
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Verse 1
I hang with these thugs.
Whut?
I'm from the hood,
Nigga.
I gives a fuck. (I gives a fuck.)
It's in my blood.
Since I was little I been
hangin' with these niggas.
F
E
And till I die I gon' remain
with these niggas.
St. Paul in
The M- P- L- S, I hear you callin'.
F
G
E
I put it down, yes.
Now, Chris Rock, where you at?
I heard you say some shit
E
Nigga, this been your ass back.
Come see the real deal.
Stay in the fields, nigga.
These niggas will kill.
F
G
E
This ain't no cap- gun shots, nigga.
This a glock, pah, pah.
It's death on your block,
These sirens start singing.
It's me and Yuk with the
G
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It's stinkin', freakin',
Bowlin' on the weekend.
Creepin, seekin'
F
G
Me, till the currency
E
Gimme stacks up on mo' stacks.
Em
E
I'm double parked for the train.
F
Even your moms know my name.
G
Em
E
I be the D into the M,
and the M into the G.
G
And I bring the B- O- M- B,
Nigga.
E
[Chorus] It's in my blood.
Verse 2
Smokin, sweets, drink forties to the suds,
F
And fuckin' wit' these thugs,
nigga.
G
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That's in my blood.
Em
G
E
You wonder why us niggas be hustlers,
F
G
And out there slingin' drugs, nigga?
That drug money,
Em
E
stuff that shit up under the rug,
And make that nigga bug, nigga.
F
G
Em
E
It's in my blood.
G
E
turn niggas like you into hustlers.
F
G
Fucking with us, fucking wit us!
Verse 3
Like a chain- reaction.
How it all happened.
Paps is slangin' crack
in the mid eighties,
G
E
when shit was crackin'.
Niggas pay thirty- eight for a package.
G
E
Tightly rappin',
G
For shippin' and handelin', taxes
was added.
E
That's where the A- rap's
headin'.
Even when I sleep, they in cavage,
Lavage shit.
Do automatics, with scopes,
drugmoney.
Em
Stuffin' that shit up under
G
Takin' drugs only 'cause
Em
E
we love money.
G
I'm a nigga, he's a nigga.
E
G
Would you like to be a nigga too?
E
G
E
Makin' big scrilla, like these niggas do.
G
You probably be a drugdealer too.
E
Scan and tuned, into the boys in blue.
E
In the kitchen, bakin' up Peruvian flake.
It takes twenty- eight grams,
F
G
Multiplied by thirty- six zips to make
E
G
E
A triple beam brake, a triple beam shake.
G
A hundred grams on the triple beam flake.
E
Two point two pounds, to be straight.
My niggas just flew in from G- A,
Ready to buy 4 kilos,
F
Then drive slow back to
Em
E
Youngstown, Ohio.
So fuck these rhymes.
Em
E
Let me stick my dick in your ear,
F
And fuck with your mind,
G
E
F
G
Em
E
Em
E
F
Nigga.
Verse 4
E
Em
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Niggas
F
G
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G
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F
G
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portray themselves as low key.
Broken down and fabricated,
Easily ejaculated, table with,
and halfway faded.
Ain't no wars, 'cause they made it.
That type of bullshit is outdated.
But I played it like I laid it.
G
My partners have always said that.
Money, clothes and hos,
but road I chose was
E
Niggas know just what it's
F
E
like to be hustlers.
Em
E
Governors from strugglers.
Bitches lovin' us.
G
Blindly chasin' that life we lust.
Bottles, havin' thoughts
and iring dreams.
Goin' down and roll fast.
F
Tryin' to get what my eyes have seen.
G
E
Fried of me, huh.
Nigga for a hand that got me through
these eyes right to see.
But part not I was blind to the point,
F
G
Not even I could see,
or that I could be,
E
Obviously.
I wasn't meant for me this type of trickery.
Hit me with the type of mystery.
Lay it down like history.
F
G
Em
E
With the in tent of me, myself, an d I.
Street desire, easily.
Piece of mind, I was least to find.
G
Em
E
Some sassiness.
Hossisiless, it gets to shit and praise
Am
G
to the farmer innercist.
D
G
G
Nobody was meant for it, it was deadly,
And I was discontent
E
With the shit that life once sent.
Government depend,
now most of my time is spent
E
Em
E
G
E
Escapin' what I love.
F
G
E
G
E
G
Em
E
G
Em
E
E
F
Verse 5
Outro 1
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