Tonart: F minor
Intro 1
Em
C
B
Em
B
C
B
C#
B
C#
B
C#
B
C#
B
C#
B
C#
B
C#
B
C#
B
C#
B
Verse 1
B
Ain't from the streets of Compton.
Bm
B
Bm
Ain't from no prison yard.
B
Ain't got no guns or weapons.
Bm
B
Hell, nigga, I ain't hard.
I'd rather help than fight you.
I'd rather hug than swing.
Verse 2
B
I know where diamonds come from
and ain't about to bling.
Ain't got no fancy car. I
Bm
B
can't afford my rent.
Ain't even got my own style.
Sometimes I'm 50 Cent.
Bm
B
Bm
But I ain't got not bullets.
B
Bm
B
And I ain't bullet proof.
And you can take your aim,
but you can't kill the truth.
C#
C#m
C#
Ay, yo, untie that noose. Son,
C#m
D
we ain't free, we're loose.
C#
C#m
C#
C#m
I'm sleeping on the floor above
C#
your party's burning roof.
C#m
C#
And when that party's through,
here's what you need to do.
Just hold that mic right to your heart and
B
E#
B
C#
E#
B
hear the beat of you.
C#
E#
B
I got a heart beat produced by God,
F#
B
and, boy, it sounds hard.
B
I got heart beat produced by God,
F#
B
and, boy, it sounds hard.
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TunerE A D G B E
Akkorde & SongtexteEm C B C# Bm...
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