Tonalité : D minor•
Verse 1
Dm
Bb
Gm
Dm
Bb
Gm
Dm
Gm
Dm
Bb
Dm
Bb
Gm
Yeah, yeah, chillin' in some shorts
Dm
Sippin' on a cold one,
Bb
Gm
sittin' on the porch
Dm
Am
Gm
Only chopsticks, I don't ever use a fork
Dm
Am
Go for it, little dork,
Dm
don't you know, I'm that dude
Bb
Gm
Yo, yo, born from a stork
Dm
Kung Pao chicken,
Am
Gm
you can pile on the pork
Dm
Am
When I get bored,
Bb
Gm
I just call up Scott Storch
Dm
Am
House phone, no cord,
Bb
F
of course I'm that dude
Verse 2
Dm
Cut my hair in two years
Bb
Dm
Drink beer, get weird
Get clear advice when
Bb
Gm
my friends tell me get real
Dm
No deal,
Bb
Gm
I be sippin' smoothies and shit
Dm
Bb
Gettin' stoned and then I go
F
alone to movies and shit
Dm
Bolognese, homemade,
Bb
Gm
only played croquet
Dm
In a cloak, and like old epis
Bb
Gm
odes of Soul Train
Dm
Run with the O'Jays, Whole
Bb
Gm
Foods for the groceries
Dm
Am
F
Dm
OJ, loafs, cherries and Yoplait
Am
No way, Jose, Cuervo in a bear coat
Dm
A
Hair long, tomatoes,
Am
grow my ver' own
Dm
Barebone,
A
Am
Gm
dare you to out- stare a scarecrow
Dm
Blow whale's airhole,
Bb
Dm
hair like scared werewolf
Bb
Gm
Get down, sheets got a high thread count
Dm
Red gown, gets drowned
Am
Dm
out by my med sound
Bb
Gm
Dm
Loud, TED talks on the iPad
Am
Old search says Bang Bros., my bad
Dm
Am
Good weed got be talkin' 'bout deities
Dm
Bb
Aphrodites, sucker
Gm
for good lighting
Dm
And neat handwriting,
Bb
Gm
sorta like cal ligraphy
Dm
Bb
Trick or treat at 30, dressed up as
Dm
Jackie Tree
G
Dm
G
Dm
Verse 3
G
Dm
Dude
G
Dm
Bb
Gm
Yeah, yeah, chillin' in some shorts
Dm
Sippin' on a cold one,
Bb
Gm
sittin' on the porch
Dm
Bb
Gm
Only chopsticks, I don't ever use a fork
Dm
Go for it, little dork,
don't you know, I'm that dude
Bb
Gm
Yo, yo, born from a stork
Dm
Kung Pao chicken,
Bb
Gm
you can pile on the pork
Dm
Am
When I get bored,
Gm
I just call up Scott Storch
Dm
House phone, no cord,
Bb
Am
of course I'm that dude
Verse 4
Dm
Am
Gm
Niggas is clowns, I hand out styles like
Dm
Bb
I make them at home, beneath my
Gm
Workshop lights
Dm
Am
Hundreds of these, it's nothing to me
Dm
At home over the stove,
Bb
makin' these keys
F
Dm
Laughin' at these little
niggas mimicking me
They slidin' down razor blades,
landin' in alcohol rivers
I can't get with 'em, nah, Spitta chillin'
And I still claim Jets at your
Motherfuckin'
With a batch of pot brownies in
the oven and some hoes
Comin'
Same old shit spinnin',
just the toilet bowl different
G
Dm
Bathrooms bigger, bigger mirrors
Hoes seein' themselves in 'em and havin'
twisted visions of us livin'
Gm
Coexistin', demolishing my pimpin'
Dm
Am
None of that asking where
I'm going
Gm
Furthermore,
Dm
when I'm comin' back
Am
Gm
No wine, no top hat,
Dm
Am
I still pull a disappearin' act
Dm
Never die, motherfucker,
Bb
that's what I say
Am
Dm
Gettin' money out your
Am
bitches every goddamn day
Gm
Dm
Am
Homie said he want a show,
I want 10 grand
Gm
Dm
Am
I'mma need 10 more
Dm
when my plane land
Baby never met another
nigga higher or hotter
Am
Bitch, just hit the weed, don't
Dm
Ask where I got it
Am
In the presence of these internation
Bb
Dm
al globe trotters
Bb
F
G
Dm
G
Dm
On the bus ballin' out in different towns with my partners
G
Dm
G
Dm
Bb
Gm
Dm
Bb
Gm
Dm
Bb
Gm
Dm
Bb
F
Dm
Bb
Gm
Dm
Bb
Gm
Dm
Bb
Gm
Dm
Bb
Dm
Dude
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AccordeurE A D G B E
AccordsDm Bb Gm F Am...
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