Tonalité : C# minor•
Intro 1
C#m
B#m
C#m
B#m
B#m
Verse 1
C#m
Yo, my
C#m
team be bellyaching hungry nig gas on the swarm again
Pirahna niggas bite dick,
yo Son, it's on again
B#m
What up, he made a move, try to assist it
Listen kid yo, you was born to be
a pawn but I'm a bishop
C#m
Back to the novel, you Son, it's logical
How you figure god, what,
flow on the track, flip the obstacle
B#m
Now my proposal rips the global
From California to courts,
it's over God so, taste the soul food
C#m
Remember baggy jeans,
the Timberlands in November
Shorty called me Santa in December
B#m
But guess what,
my Wally's got messed up
Autograph pressed up what,
blessed enough to blow your rest up
C#m
We scrape that, Land O' Lake that
My dolo rapper get you sent back
Represent the gentlemens
who bent that
B#m
Flash medallions like Italians,
la costra nostra
We movin through your hood like
C#m
we supposed ta, flexin'
Lex and Diamonds hold the settlement
So keep the bust the gun Boo
Like that bad ass bitch in
Dead Presidents
B#m
Add on, the billboard sloan
Check it now, you get the gold dick award
It's like jail, and it's the sixth floor
C#m
Test me, floating in the S.E.,
now let's see
Half of y'all niggas built your vine
B#m
from my stress tree
Faggots, homos, yo,
my flavor liver than adobo
Stay militant kid, twist ya like bolo
C#m
You fucking idiot,
playing with my Clan but you be fearin' it
Fake one, I'm guaranteed to
B#m
make you take one
Please, y'all niggas
money's gettin' low
But could you come back though,
set up shop, and get the fat glow?
C#m
Tired of y'all, mostly inspired by y'all
So what the deal now, link up with us,
B#m
or put your shield down
Faggot (bitch), you fuck around
punk (seven fifteen)
B#m
We battle for cream nigga
C#m
You want a pound
Verse 2
crab? Nah
let his hand swing
I ought to punch a hole in his palm
B#m
with these pointy ass rings
No more said,
knew your chump ass was dead
When I saw the four four reflecting
off your shiny forehead
C#m
It's Wu- Tang nigga,
ain't nuttin' changed nigga
Still shame on a nigga,
who tried to run game
B#m
Your version of perversion,
fuckin bitches on Persian rugs
Washin niggas like detergent,
it's the surgeon
C#m
Slugs propels from Bobby
Steele's 12 gauge
Front page, "Daily Chronicle" reads
"Hell up in Gotham,
take heed and protect yo' seeds"
B#m
You fall like autumn leaves,
you lack tranquility
In your rap utilities,
to fuck with the abilities
C#m
Race like a sperm cell to the ovary
Microphone post tone like
a rotary phone
Ancient poems and poetry,
B#m
old sloans
Explosive head bullets,
black hooded
Timberland footed ninjas, who
full metal jacket clips
C#m
And know how to put it in you
Surrender your goods
and your merchandise
For no purchase price, I'm certainly a heist
B#m
For your ice and curtains
and vice
Come quietly,
Wu- Tang Clan rules society
Because of variety,
C#m
so maintain your high anxiety
And lead them to defy me, diary, ya Irie?
B#m
I need 18 points for my next joint,
this high annointed king
To make a deal, I be the one to appoint
C#m
Steve Rifkind must have been sniffin'
To catch somethin so dope,
it left Monica Lynch pussy drippin'
B#m
I fuck hundreds of bitches,
and split millions of dollars
And built with thousands of scholars
C#m
My life saga from the hill to the harbor
Legal kid brown in Nicaragua
Gave birth to MC's, thieves
and bank robbers
B#m
We drove ex pensive whips
and took worldwide trips
And my dick's been sucked
B#m
by the finest lips
C#m
Fancy delicatessens, and
the world's best refreshment
But none of the above compare
to the one- twenty lessons
B#m
Or my queen and my seeds,
in the home that I rest in
Verse 3
Enter my zone get blown to 99 sections
B#m
C#m
This rhyme has no limitations,
C#m
this time there's no hesitation
Collecting minds at the door,
B#m
B#m
you want it niggas it's yours
The flavors raw,
B#m
what the fuck you think I'm flowing for
C#m
It's rhyme and reason, bite the bullet
C#m
C#m
Niggas is foul and it's duck season
We at odds 'til we even motherfucker
B#m
Bad asses, high times, lower classes
Taste mine, straight shots
B#m
in dirty glasses
C#m
Bring it to him, room service,
under pressure
And mad nervy,
B#m
wavin guns at the clergy
Ticallion, we ain't worried
Keep them sick niggas
B#m
seven- thirty
Picture this, watch the birdy
C#m
These bastards is Ol an
C#m
d Dirty
With sharp pins that be stabbing you
Pins and needles, needles and pins
B#m
Nuff said, dick in your mouth
B#m
B#m
like Tempest Bled'
B#m
As I race track with thoroughbreds,
B#m
duck in the feds
C#m
Yo, my
Verse 4
ice look fly up on
the keyboard son
Niggas ran up on me law,
B#m
praising what we do by the lords
That's right, exile the fake,
B#m
hit them niggas like weight
Feed 'em food, let the fake evaporate
C#m
Reconstruction, that's the whole science on my,
production
Y'all niggas guess who stuck son,
B#m
left his nuts hungs
Switch, finger itch,
starin' at you like a bitch
Maybe y'all niggas snitched
B#m
C#m
Youse a loner, Adidas shell top while I
Sip a Corona, read the Robb Report,
then bone her
B#m
Buy you some jewels, here's some food
G#
B#m
Not necessarily mean to be rude boo,
C#m
check out the analoo
We in the mushrooms,
chased the high neck in the custom
Baggy jeans, thick ropes god,
B#m
sliding through customs
Chill, y'all niggas know what time it is
G#
James Bond Beamers behind
B#m
me on Bacardi Limon
C#m
Check out the pitch like Nolan Ryan
He caught a slug for lyin'
Yeah you was lyin',
where's the cash, cryin'
B#m
Militia, rollin' in position
Casa Blanca Cuban Link Christian
Lex retali' back whistlin' fake fucks
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AccordsC#m B#m G#
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