Tonart: G# minor
Verse 1
C
Em
Today I am prepared
to bring specific charges
C
Em
against certain members
working in an industry
C
Em
that reaches into every household in the
D
Em
country.
Em
D
Hoods is up, so skills is up
so why'd you interrupt?
Sold such much material,
D
Dm
D
Em
so I'm rebroke I'm eating cer eal with spoon, sipping sepia
Daddy
O slipped me some cause
Em
Went gold but no one counts in
Swiss banks
D
Think tax once rolled on the city streets
Em
I used to make a betweens
the sheets
D
Universes pluses plus prospectus
Em
True flam flam it wasn't wax discus
So they dismissed this as vulgarity
Em
And once laughed upon
it at the university
D
Some perk without skills and plus your pen
I send surreal scenes
Em
where you've never been
Looked out, gave you three strikes,
Em
Pop that old man, knock your fronts out
Blew your blunts out, your wheels stuck up,
you're uh
Guess you're up, then slap you with my staff
I seen your skins like to go to the motels
D
Em
But your a** won't
know to the hotel
Forced to lift and zip, I paint pictures
D
Em
A portrait of self, far from tip sters
My discussion of percussion
ain't ignorance
D
So don't label the hood
You never thought that a
gangster could talk sense
D
Em
But this artifice flipped,
your beans is spent
Took your paints out your
pocket as you stood up
Focused the portrait of the artist
as a hood's up
Bbm
Ebm
Em
Ebm
Third base, third base,
Em
Bbm
Ebm
third base,
Bbm
Ebm
Em
Bbm
third
Ebm
Bbm
Ebm
Em
Bbm
base, third
base
Em
Portrait painted back in the day,
Strays
LQ on
Fridays, waiting for
D
Dice to give a go ahead
Hawking 50 cent,
Em
putting heads to bed for a herringbone
Dm
Hear the tone of the audio too,
Em
Milk was chillin' as I chilled
in the back room
Listenin' to snaps pushed by
Scrapp,
Union
Em
Square to tear up the
KRS tracks
D
Em
Torn up by the camp, the clock dark,
as the brothers tried to spark
D
We knocked boots and the boots got knocked,
Em
3am and it was off to the rooftop
Hit pop,
Starsky, the masters of ceremony,
D
Em
Cracked out, was hooked to property
5am, it was the
D
F &F, 145th street, down on
Lennox
Em
Starchild made all the hoes squeal
D
Em
For a dollar, crack heads or
maraud your wills
D
Whippin' home in the sunshine, fun time
Em
But now you can't find
Clubs like this that kept the
music in the street
And pop rap couldn't get a dime to eat
Yo, they makin' mills,
but what about the hood?
A parking lot where the
Latin
Quarter stood
A landmark marked in the cranium
But now I bring it back in front of
packed stadiums
Picture painted with the
goals and the good
The portrait of an artist as a hood
Bbm
Ebm
Em
Bbm
Ebm
Bbm
Ebm
Em
Third base, third base,
Bbm
Ebm
Em
third base
Bbm
Ebm
Em
Bbm
Em
Bbm
Third base, third
Ebm
Em
Bbm
Ebm
Third base, third base,
Bbm
Ebm
third base
Bbm
Em
In side the street I got you
D
thinking for a trickster
Em
Search got a list of yours to
get the gist of this
D
melancholy move on mayhem,
Em
manifesting moves over matters at hand.
D
Try your best but you can't understand,
you're like
Art
Em
Garfunkel in each span.
I drive a
Yak with a
Scorch and drive an
D
Exel, I'm taking terms and I'm
Em
twisting like a pretzel.
D
Non -fiction, three levels addiction,
Em
spits the hood in the face of the friction.
D
Lift the gate and let us split you like wood,
Em
Em
Em
Bbm
the portrait of the artist says the hood.
Em
Bbm
Em
Em
Bbm
Outro 1
You
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