Tonart: F minor•
Verse 1
Fm
Db
C
Db
Uh, you know, we do this shit.
Fm
We don't need no motherfuckin'
that shit we supposed to do,
Db
Fm
cause we some real niggas.
You follow me?
Db
Fm
B -niggas, ass -fuckin' -nigga, hoe.
that shit we supposed to do.
Cause we some motherfuckin'
real niggas.
Db
Fm
supposed to fuck with some real niggas.
Db
I'm good at what I do,
Fm
Db
Fm
Db
I'm at what I do
Fm
Db
And all my bad bitches,
Csus4
they'll throw me on next to Memphis
Db
Fm
Db
Love cause they show me
Fm
I'm good at what I do
Db
And all my real niggas ridin' for me,
Fm
Db
if we peepin' all you bitches die slowly
Fm
Db
All the real niggas, they fuckin' with me
Bad bitches, they fuckin' with me
Fm
In the VIP with my strap on me
Db
Fm
Blowin' gas, sippin' this copper in me
Db
Shoes fendin' my jeans,
huntin' my shirt
Fendin' my buckle fendin'
Fm
Db
Fm
She ain't no fun , crew can't hit her
Db
I fuckin' pass him, ain't cuffin' any
Fm
Db
Believe or not, no fuckin' Rid ley Hood
nigga drivin' this fuckin' Bentley
Don't play no games with
these lame niggas
Fm
Db
Stomp a nigga out if he scuff my titties
Every nigga round me, one hundred
Leave a hundred racks,
Fm
they won't touch a penny
Db
Bands on me, no twenties, fifties
I'm 100 pockets,
they stuffed for centuries
Fm
Db
This ain't blocky, a shooter
Damn right,
C
that's what I'm good at, n***a
You can try me if you want to
Ab
Db
Get your shit pushed back, n***a
Fm
Db
Half a ticket on my neck like a dope boy,
C
lookin' like I cooked that, n***a
Flex! I'm a real jack boy,
Db
Ab
Db
caught a n***a slippin' and I took that,
n***a
Fm
Db
Fm
I'm good at what I do,
I'm good at what I do,
Fm
Db
Fm
Db
good at what I do
Fm
Db
And all my bad bitches,
they'll throw me
I don't ask them if it's love,
Fm
Db
cause they show me
Fm
I'm good at what I do
Db
And all my real niggas ridin' for me
Fm
If we peepin', all you bitches die slowly
J -J -Jack LaLanne, I'm flexin'
Db
Real nig gas, only my section
Barrick armor, my belt bucklin'
Fm
Db
Handcuffs on me, no arrestin' FN on my waistline,
kiss a fuck, nigga wanna test me
Elm Street, I'm fire,
real real right, nigga, no lefty
Actin' round town,
niggas know,
Fm
blockin' real street, nigga, name heavy
Db
In the bushes, that choppa, nigga,
Fm
dressin' all black like Wesley
Db
I'm a rich nigga for some red bottoms,
Fm
she do anything, she bless me
Db
Have a threesome with two bad bitches,
Fm
I fuck all of her besties
Db
Fm
I don't smoke gas, no Reggie
Db
C
If it ain't loud, don't pass it
Real street nigga with a bank account
Fm
Ab
Fm
200k on my mattress
Db
Fm
Won't ever change, always stay the same
Db
C
Only thing that changes is my ad dress
And my standards can't fuck
with basics
Fm
Bitches can't fuck with
her if she average
Db
Fm
Db
Squad, fuck em, fuck em
I'm good at what I do, good at what I do
Fm
Db
I'm good at what I do, good at what I do
I'm good at what I do, good at what I do
I'm good at what I do
And all my bad bitches dare throw me,
Fm
I don't ask some bitches
Db
love cause they show me
Fm
I'm good at what I do
Db
And all my real niggas ridin' for me,
Fm
Db
if we peepin' all you bitches die slowly
Ab
Db
I'm good at what I do
Fm
Db
Db
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TunerE A D G B E
Akkorde & SongtexteFm Db C Csus4 Ab
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