Tonart: G minor
Verse 1
to sit back here,
in this studio,
F
looking at a guy out here,
hollering my name.
Em
Am
You're talking to the Rolex, wearing,
diamond ring wearing,
Bm
kid stealing, wheel of dealing,
Em
limousine riding, jet flying,
son of a gun,
Bm
Em
and I'm having a hard time
holding these allegations down.
I'm straight up out them streets,
with loose lips,
Where everybody gotta hustle,
but everybody ain't nip
F
With the dope, jumpin' out the gym,
but we didn't play with Scott Pipp
Em
We treat it like Simone Biles,
we just tryna make a flip
Am
If I say I'm with some killers,
that mean they did it
with no attempt
Bm
That mean they shoot 90%,
all swish, no assist
Em
My nigga joined the gang, I seen him slip
Bm
Em
A bullet left him paralyzed,
fuck bein' blood
His only choice was bein' Crip,
Am
how could you blame me?
This shit I'm talkin' bout,
This ain't no barbershop,
Am
these niggas shootin' shots,
not catchin' feds
a lot of standin' on that block,
how I was paid on Vincent Rowe
Where I sold Miss Kim Crack,
she died of AIDS,
Am
I'm still fresher by the favorites
I can't do you niggas no solid,
cause niggas ain't really solid
Won't do me like Christopher Wallace,
Em
I'm just talkin' big Poppa at your crib,
you did this to yourself
Am
D
Bm
Em
Life after death, it's south
I swear we came from poverty
Now these chains be getting tangled up
And if you try to reach for it, follow
One in your cranium,
So ain't no saving us,
Em
tryna get this money
So my addict got them elbows
everywhere
Like WrestleMania I played
Am
the hand that I was dealt
But I didn't like the car shuffled
Bm
No keys to push start it
Em
Now you can hear the car muffle
Yeah we all hustle
Tell my youngins shoot it
Em
Tell him coffee in your mug
He gon' pull up and starbuck you
The one that's locked up the road,
This for the little homie writing
raps
Am
While niggas was sleeping,
can't make him a call
Em
For the little homie
could've made it out the hood rapping
But now he a dog
In the jail cell, breaking laws
Fuck a producer,
Am
Remember? Mama used to tell us
pops was coming home soon
That was every visitation
gotta be gone by 12 noon
Em
That's selling dope just send that blood
I told the streets to make room
That's when I seen a junkie
cook it off a spoon
Am
D
Bm
Em
It's my real life
F
Em
Long limousines, jitterplates,
custom -made clothes,
Am
y 'all playin' catch -a -ball.
Bm
Let's face it, if you're not carryin' the big gold,
no matter what you tell yourself.
Bm
Em
So gear up, ladies and gentlemen,
get used to it.
Am
Ooh, you're lookin' at
Bm
Am
the man!
Em
Thank you.
Wie hat dir der Song gefallen?
TunerE A D G B E
Akkorde & SongtexteEm F Am Bm D
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