Tonalité : G# minor
Intro 1
Am
F
G
Em
Am
Em
Am
G
F
G
Verse 1
Am
I gotta make it,
F
the shit is in my blood
G
The Congress couldn't cage
Em
his middle finger so the judge
Am
I'm rotting on this paper,
F
trying to kill him with the buzz
G
So I'm rotting on this hatin',
Em
so I'm sitting up above
Am
Cuz I gotta make it,
F
this shit is in my blood
G
The coppers come in cages,
Em
metal fingers to the judge
Am
I'm rotting on this paper,
F
trying to kill him with the buzz
G
So I'm rotting on this hatin',
Em
so I'm sitting up above
Am
F
Cuz I had to flip a few
to get us through
G
Prick, it's true in principle
Em
when you can't do the rent
And your rent is due,
Am
F
forget a interview, verse,
song, interlude
G
Listen, Buddhist niggas
Em
who these hustlers trying to ridicule?
Am
I've been invincible,
F
doing what they intend to do
G
Em
A lyrical miracle, little nigga,
Am
you sick as who?
F
Who is better, not a veteran alive?
G
Can't match up what I'm measuring,
Em
I'm heavenly supplied
Am
I'm peddling some medicine
F
to ratting up your eyes
G
You wouldn't play corners
Em
on an elevator ride
Am
I can tell you ain't as wise,
F
G
the hustler is global, you're local
Em
And only thing you're doublin'
Am
is bothers, I told you
F
The soldier is sick and the
blow that I'm spittin'
G
Em
HD vision is written,
your flow need prescriptions
Am
Listen, I'm a pro,
F
that's destined to blow
G
Batter up your dough,
Em
I'm nicer than whoever you know
Am
Writer, I gotta make it,
F
this shit is in my blood
G
Encompass concages,
Em
metal fingers set a judge
Am
Fuck em!
Plotting on his paper,
F
trying to kill him with the buzz
G
So I'm riding on his haters,
Em
so I'm setting up the bomb
Am
F
Cause I gotta make it, make it
G
The shit is in my blood, blood
The coppers cutting cages,
Em
middle fingers to the judge
Fuck em!
Am
Plotting on his paper,
F
trying to kill him with the buzz
G
So I'm riding on his haters,
Em
so I'm setting up the bomb
Am
Cause...
F
Okay, A .R.
G
I see you really came to kill niggas
on this one right here
Em
When these niggas gonna learn?
Am
When they gon' see,
F
G
they can't fuck with my n***a
Em
The writer of writers,
Am
J .R. motherfuckin' writer
F
Yeah, n***a, Dipset
G
G
You heard the man,
Em
Am
three albums lined up
F
G
Now n****s better catch up
Em
It's Dipset
Am
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AccordeurE A D G B E
AccordsAm F G Em
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