Tonalité : C# minor
Verse 1
B
Writer, okay, uh, I got him, just that, uh
Abm
Bbm
Back to the lab, wrap in a bag,
Ebm
roll me a blunt, pass me a pack,
your dude's goin' in
B
I mastered the craft,
Abm
Bbm
laugh at the past,
Ebm
fo' in the trunk, mash in the gas,
you're too slow to win
B
Who's dope as him?
Abm
Bbm
Ebm
Late in the line, so high,
you would swear he had a license to fly
B
Look up, you might even
Abm
see him right in the sky
Ebm
So high, I should give skydiving a try
B
Know why? I'm getting loot and bread
Abm
Bbm
Got these little dudes fed
Ebm
Cause this rap shit to me
is easier than Superhead
B
That easy?
Abm
When she move to bed, prick,
Bbm
I'm on the grind
Grind
Ebm
Lyrically inclined,
every sentence get rewinded
Rewinded
B
The kid is in his prime Prime
Abm
Bbm
A monster on the track
Track
Ebm
Taunting all these cats
Where's the competition at?
Where they at?
B
They all spin crack
Crack
Abm
Bbm
The Carter couldn't match
Ebm
Match Sharper than a tack
Whole Harlem on his back Harlem
It's a fact, you couldn't yell
R or shit, it's whack
I helped build the team
and put Harlem on the map
Come holla at a Mack,
Abm
who got this in the raps
Ebm
The next album
Abm
B
I had your girl polishin' his plaits
Abm
Uh, uh, then it's right to the street
Bbm
Ebm
Light on my feet,
goonies that'll light you for cheap
B
Wipe you deceased,
Abm
knife you to sleep
Bbm
Put some sneaks
Ebm
even though my pockets deep
B
It's Barry White on the beat, sheesh
Abm
I'm a beast with a flow like a jazz
Bbm
Ebm
Puss the game so weak
that the throne's up for grabs
B
So I'm low on the ass,
Abm
Ebm
with the toast on my abs
Waitin' for the spit
so I can put the hoe in the bag
B
It's sad, but nigga,
Abm
Bbm
I'm a pro with the past
Ebm
Put the mic there,
you're washed up and old as my dad
B
You're loaded with swag,
Abm
Bbm
you couldn't fly without a pilot
Ebm
You're bummed out
and better off finding you a stylist
B
Abm
The future is me, and tuners can be
Bbm
Ebm
Ruge an d T, shoot you for free,
salute to the G
B
Who's nothing but nicer,
Abm
gunnin' the cypher
Bbm
Ebm
Bot tom line,
ain't nobody out as hungry as Ryder
Abm
Uh! Huh, you hear that, man?
Ebm
B
Y 'all can't fuck with me at all, man
Abm
B
Ebm
Abm
I got this shit on lock and key
And I think I might've lost the key,
so y 'all assed out, man
Huh
Ebm
Let me get my zone though, man
Let me finish smokin' this purple,
countin' this money
And, uh, turn the music up
and get in my zone, man
Let's do it
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AccordeurE A D G B E
AccordsB Abm Bbm Ebm
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