Tonart: D minor
Verse 1
Am
C
Am
C
"Ayyo, let me tell y'all somethin'.
Em
We ball like the ballers ball,
("We ball.") pimp like the
pimpers pimp; ("We pimps.")
And when we want,
Am
C
we can take like the takers take.
Am
C
("You want drugs?") 'Knaw- mean? Southwest,
("That's right.") What.
Ayyo, check it."
Verse 2
Am
C
Ay, for the most part,
Am
I'm smart. Keep birds
C
I'm the type 'get head in the whip,
Em
In the winter rock Timberland boots,
long furs
Usually if I shot at you niggas,
we had words
Am
C
Aim might be off a little,
it's bad nerves
Am
C
Em
Mister, a step above like street curbs
M- are D- O- T, somethin' nasty
Price it but ain' gon' cop?
Don't ask me
Am
C
Am
Hot as the drop. Cold, my top glassy
I'm grown? Kidnap me
Em
Uh, respect is all I ask for
Wit' no problem, spray your Accord
Am
C
I leave you face down,
Am
dead on your dashboard
C
Em
Sixteen shots in your front left door
Then I spent off, wipe my fingerprints off
Rob pass the creep. Man,
Am
C
Playin' ketchup catch- up
got
Am
you lost on the sauce
C
You ain't nothin' but crack,
Em
C
I supply all raw
Em
Like them cars you saw
bounce on Crenshaw
Tell them Boyz in your Hood the same
goes for y'all. What?!
Verse 3
Am
C
That's how the game go. Young blood,
Am
C
Em
ask
Am
C
your
kinfolk
Am
C
Don't do the same dumb
Am
shit that got him smoked
Em
Man, you know it's real when
the gun go. (Gun shot)
Pay for no respect. Mothafucka, better
let it go
Am
C
That's how the game go. Young blood,
ask your kinfolk
Am
C
Don't do the same dumb
Em
shit that got him smoked
Man, you know it's real when
the gun go. (Gun shot)
Pay for no respect.
C
Mothafucka, better let it go
Verse 4
Am
C
Yo, again it's Boobonic. Shit,
C
Trust me when I tell ya, you
Em
ain't seen blood yet
Layin' on the deck,
blood pressure gettin' low
And it's fucked up because you
Am
was never gettin' dough
C
'Young boy, who you talkin'
Am
to?' Then I bust him
C
Em
Sonny, talkin' to C. I love you
but can't trust you
It's me and Mister,
's like A.C. and O.J.:
C
Everybody know we all about that all day
Am
C
Am
Tell ya again, don't fuck wit' A. Jones,
Kill you while you talkin' to
broads on pay phones
Em
Sick flow, I know how to get
dough. ("Yeah.")
Ski mask outta ya house and get low
Am
C
I don't see you when you talk?
That's invisible threats
Am
C
Em
See Boo iced out in in visible sets
Niggas must think that I'm outta my mind
Like I'm out in the streets
Am
C
Come on, use your brain before
Am
I put 'em on the floor
C
One shot, I bet you won't
Reason why, you went sick- up crazy
Now your mom over top of you like
'Get up, baby!'
Am
C
But not today, he gone and that's that
Am
C
Em
I'ma put it on wax in fact and that's rap
Let it go. Uh. Mister Man, Boobonic
C
Uh. You ain't ready, nigga
Verse 5
Am
C
That's how the game go. Young blood,
Em
Am
shit that got him smoked
Em
Man, you know it's real when
the gun go. (Gun shot)
Pay for no respect. Mothafucka, better
let it go
Am
C
That's how the game go. Young blood,
C
Em
Don't do the same dumb shit
that got him smoked
Man, you know it's real when
the gun go. (Gun shot)
Pay for no respect.
Mothafucka, better let it go
Verse 6
Am
Who keep the hot block? ("Mister.") Hot
glock? ("Mister.")
C
Em
Call the cops tryin' to snitch
on... ("Mister.")
Big chips? ("Mister.") Nice
whips? ("Mister.")
Big dick? ("Mister.") Fuck yo' sister
C
Am
she call to talk about Mister
Whole time,
C
Em
thinkin' it was all about rap
Knowin' I'ma playa. How
the fuck you think that?
Compare a brick of raw to an ounce
Verse 7
Am
You can catch me in your bitch
C
ear sayin' I'm fuckin' nice
Am
C
At the bar. Cristal and a bucket of ice
Em
You can catch a nigga lookin' at me, mad
'cause I'm eatin'
Type: crack on my bitch just to tell her I'm
Am
cheatin'. ("Sucka.")
C
I talk that shit and walk it like
C
'Bonic all over it soon as the beat drops
Em
It's Most Wanted; them niggas
that got the street hot,
Crushin' all y'all niggas that
Am
C
Shit I spit, well
Am
C
Out in Cali in a four- point- six tippin'
Em
richter scales. ("Get it?")
The new lever, did more than you ever
Real niggas hate when we spill,
we too clever
Verse 8
Am
C
Em
That's how the game go. Young blood,
Am
C
Don't do the same dumb
Em
Am
shit that got him smoked
Em
Man, you know it's real when
the gun go. (Gun shot)
Pay for no respect. Mothafucka, better
Am
C
That's how the game go. Young blood,
C
Don't do the same dumb shit
Em
Man, you know it's real when
the gun go. (Gun shot)
Pay for no respect. Mothafucka, better
let it go
Am
C
That's how the game go. Young blood,
C
Em
Don't do the same dumb shit
that got him smoked
Man, you know it's real when
the gun go. (Gun shot)
Pay for no respect. Mothafucka, better
let it go
Am
C
That's how the game go. Young blood,
C
Am
Don't do the same dumb shit
that got him smoked
Em
Man, you know it's real when
the gun go. (Gun shot)
Pay for no respect. Mothafucka, better
Am
let it go
C
That's how the game go. Young blood,
ask your kinfolk
Am
C
Em
Don't do the same dumb shit
that got him smoked
Man, you know it's real when
the gun go. (Gun shot)
C
Pay for no respect. Mothafucka, better let it go.
Outro 1
Am
C
Am
C
Em
Am
C
Am
C
Em
Am
C
Am
Em
Wie hat dir der Song gefallen?
TunerE A D G B E
Akkorde & SongtexteAm C Em
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