Tonart: G minor
Verse 1
Em
Bm
Em
Okay, Writer,
G
Em
I'm back
Bm
Welcome back to Greatness, people
Em
Bm
Em
Dipset, Writer's Block, okay, yeah
Bm
Now, whether you copped a CD
Bm
Uh -huh, or just straight
-up downloaded it
Em
Bm
What? Don't make a difference, man
Em
Still crack, crack, turn it up, uh
Bm
Em
Yo, I know these niggas
wanna slow me up
Bm
But I'm in the astronaut,
Bm
Switchin' gears like I'm at
a fashion show
Em
Platinum glow, and oh,
Bm
I just thought you had to know
Em
Bm
I do the double tennis thing,
you can call me Mack and Rowe
Em
Bm
I'm a Mack for show, diplomatic pro
Am
Cruisin' in some crack I wrote
Excuse me, I ain't average ho
Em
I hit the ave with snow
Bm
Come get a pack and go
Am
How I get the blowout?
You would swear I had a bro
Bm
You would swear I had a bro
Am
That's why my stack and dough
Em
Usually be fat as Joe, and even Fat Joe know
Bm
I make it rain, dude
Am
The stripper might slip
if she ain't got her rain boots
Em
I'm gettin' straight loot,
Bm
pockets couldn't handle
Em
This nigga straight suit,
Bm
like his body pumpin' Campbell
Em
I scramble and damage shit,
Bm
with them lil' cannons gripped
Em
Bm
So if you put on a show,
Em
Bm
I'ma have to cancel it
Em
Bm
Click, click, click, clap, till I jam a clip
Em
Bm
Tell your girl to make a wish,
Em
I'ma leave your candle lit
Candlelight, goodnight,
Bm
give that man a kiss
Em
Then hop back in the whip
Bm
Em
and bust me down like a cancer stick
It's like a jungle sometimes,
it make me wonder
How I keep from going under,
Bm
Em
how I keep from going under
It's like a jungle sometimes,
it make me wonder
But I keep doing my numbers,
Bm
Em
and I keep doing my numbers
Bm
Em
I keep a tune tough to stare through
Bm
You dudes tough, I dare you
Em
Bm
This Ruga, I air you, do up your hairdo
Bm
I'm too up to hand you
Em
Bm
So high, the sunrise threw
up my rear view
Em
Bm
I'm the big boss, usually I flare too
Em
Bm
When I take your wig off,
you gon' need some head glue
Em
You tryna scare who?
Bm
You brothers couldn't hurt me
Em
I'm on my way through Jersey
Bm
with that gun under the murphy
Em
To Harlem, I'm a problem,
Bm
puffin' on that pervy
Am
I get the blunt, split the blunt
and stuff it like a turkey
I'm not the plate,
Bm
you're gonna see a birdie
Am
How I punted out the derby,
you can fuckin' call me Kirby
Em
Bm
Fuck it, fuck it, I ain't even done with it,
it's early
Am
These niggas stuntin'
and it's gon' get uglier the further
Bm
Holy spitters, killers in the booth
Am
Till I stick em in the dirt
Get familiar with your roots
Em
You'll be sittin' under earth
Bm
From your fitted to your boots
Em
I'm a villain, what's the use?
Bm
I'll be feelin' like a troop
Em
Use a lyrical excuse
Bm
I squeeze the nina like them
Bm
Leave em sittin' on your roof
Em
You'll be chicken noodle soup
Bm
If you ever dis respected
Bm
I aim and pop up like an instant message
Em
So check it, check my AKAs,
Bm
I'm the sickest wreckage
Em
If paper makin's a disease,
Bm
my pockets are infected
It's like a jungle sometimes,
it make me wonder
How I keep from goin' under,
Em
how I keep from goin' under
It's like a jungle sometimes,
But I keep doin' my numbers,
I keep doin' my numbers
Writer, writer, writer you
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TunerE A D G B E
Akkorde & SongtexteEm Bm G Am
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