Tamale Akkorde von
Tyler
Tyler
The Creator
The Creator

N/A284 Aufrufe
5.0 (2)
Tonart: B major
Verse 1
Eb
Eb
Tamale! Tamale! Tamale! Tamale! Tamale!
Tamale! Tamale! Tamale!
D
D
They say I've calmed
Verse 2
Dm
Dm
down
D
D
since the last album
G
G
Eb
Eb
Well, lick my dick,
Gm
Gm
Eb
Eb
how does that sound? Um
G
G
Eb
Eb
G
G
Eb
Eb
Smell my gooch, you could kiss my buns
G
G
And I don't give a shit,
bend my rectum
G
G
D
D
Somebody said bands make her dance
G
G
Eb
Eb
You think you're getting cash,
no bitch, you're dumb
The only thing that you're
gonna get is this dick
D
D
Wait turn this up, bitch, this my jam,
Eb
Eb
(Where the drums at?)
Here, take a goddamn picture
And tell Spike Lee he's
a goddamn nigger
And while you're at it, pass the lotion
And fapping and Xbox live, that fun
Before I come, I'm calling your sister
Am
Am
E
E
Eb
Eb
When she comes over, I take picture
Instantly put it on Instagram and suplex her
Verse 3
off a building if I get banned
Eb
Eb
Tamale! Tamale! Tamale! Tamale!
B
B
Eb
Eb
Why y'all so salty, I do molly and zone
Em
Em
E
E
Eb
Eb
Can't agree bitch I'm on,
your boy is bad to the bone
Verse 4
Eb
Eb
Bring back the horns that
was played in the beginning
And tell Tony Parker that
I found his vision
And if he's tripping off my sneak dissing
Then he has to deal with
me and my minions
Tryna get a Bimmer, e46
Have you heard
D
D
48, motherfucka I'm great
Eb
Eb
Golf Wang prints always
cover the sleeves
D
D
From cuts from the Biebs, 'cause
Eb
Eb
C
C
Am
Am
he's puffin' the trees, please
Eb
Eb
Ab
Ab
C
C
Fuck I look like, got a new bike tire
Eb
Eb
Never popped like the pussy
on a bitch dyke
Think I give a fuck, I do, I go balls
And I bust in her jaw like
(Fuck that disease!)
My urethra, hole that I pee from
Bigger than an obese snack
on Aretha
Now, turn that snare down
I'm back like I'm Rosa Parks fare
D
D
on the same damn bus
Verse 5
Like "you're going to jail now!"
B
B
Eb
Eb
B
B
Eb
Eb
B
B
Eb
Eb
Ta male! Tamale! Tamale! Tamale!
B
B
Eb
Eb
B
B
Eb
Eb
Why y'all so salty,
Em
Em
Am
Am
I do molly and zone
E
E
Am
Am
Can't agree bitch I'm on,
C
C
B
B
G
G
your boy is bad to the bone
Verse 6
G
G
D
D
Eb
Eb
How much wood could a woodchuck chuck?
If a woodchuck could ever give a fuck?
D
D
Eb
Eb
Bitch suck dick, motherfuck you and your opinions,
Ab
Ab
Eb
Eb
(Can you kick it?)
B
B
Yes I can sir
Eb
Eb
Where the lump is sicker than
Dbm
Dbm
the last bar bold-er
Eb
Eb
I'm I'm a C.O. Colorado,
Dbm
Dbm
fuck Michael bitch I'm badder than my B.O.
Bb
Bb
Eb
Eb
Find me and Lance tryna
dance during chemo
Dm
Dm
D
D
Before they repossess our
Eb
Eb
C
C
Eb
Eb
strong arm bands and tuxedos
Verse 7
B
B
Eb
Eb
B
B
Yeah buddy, na na na na na na na
Eb
Eb
B
B
Golf wang, golf wang, go fuck you,
Eb
Eb
Em
Em
B
B
Eb
Eb
na na na na na na
Why y'all so salty
C
C
Am
Am
I do molly and zone
E
E
Eb
Eb
Can't agree, bitch I'm on
Am
Am
C
C
Eb
Eb
Your boy is bad to the bone
Verse 8
Eb
Eb
Gm
Gm
How many fags can a light bulb screw?
Am
Am
Well if I has a dick,
they be two's and sixes
Ab
Ab
And tell the NRA I'm about
to lose my shit
Fm
Fm
Gm
Gm
G
G
Shoot through Wayne Lapierre's
hair with a crucifix
Gm
Gm
Eb
Eb
How many ladies in the house?
Gm
Gm
How many ladies in the house
Eb
Eb
without a rich nigga, huh?
Verse 9
Eb
Eb
C
C
Eb
Eb
C
C
A little Jergens in
my palm for the jerkin'
Gm
Gm
Am
Am
Hope my mom don't catch me,
tryna set mood
Eb
Eb
Fm
Fm
Little Redtube, fuck lotion,
Gm
Gm
G
G
I don't need lub e, dry fit suits me
Eb
Eb
Gb
Gb
Up and down, friction with the sound,
shit's kind of disgusting
Fap time and before I flatline,
Clancy chimes in my room and catch me
Outro 1
This shit's so damn embarrassing like

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5.0 (2)
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