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Lucky You accords de guitare faciles par
Eminem
Eminem

N/A
5.0 (1)
Verse 1
Am
E

Whoa,
Am

Joyner, Joyner,

yeah, yeah, yeah
E
Am

Yeah, I done did a lot of things in my day,
E

I admit it
Am
F

I don't take back what I say,
Dm
E

if I said it then I meant it
Am

All my life I want a Grammy but
E

I'll prolly never get it
Dm

I ain't never had no trophy or

no motherfuckin' ribbon
E
Am

Fuck the system, I'm that nigga,
E

bend the law, cut the rules
Am
Dm

I'm about to risk it all,
E

I ain't got too much to lose
Am

Y'all been eatin' long enough,
E

it's my turn to cut the food
Am
F

Pass the plate! Where my drink? This my day,

lucky you
E

Fuck you too, woah!
Verse 2
Am

Y'all gotta move, y'all gotta move,
E

y'all gotta move
F
Dm

Give me some room, give me some room,
E

give me the juice
Am

Hop out the coupe, hop out the coupe,
E

hop out and shoot
Dm

Y'all gotta move, y'all gotta move,
E

give me the juice
Verse 3
E

Back on my bullshit,

my back to the wall

Turn my back on you all
Am
E

and you finished
Am
Dm

Back to these bullets,

it's back to the job
E

Pull my MAC out and all of you runnin'

Back on my hood shit, it's
Am

back to the pushin'

These packs and I'm

actually pumpin'

Can't fuck with you rappers,
Dm

you practically suckin'

You mighta went platinum but
E

that don't mean nothin'

I'm actually buzzin' this time
Am

Straight out the kitchen,

I told them the oven is mine
E
Dm

I do not fuck with you guys

If I don't kill you, just know
E

you gon' suffer this time
Am

I ain't no gangster but I

got some bangers
E

Some chains and some blades
Am

and a couple of knives
Dm

Choppers and jammies, a partridge,

a pear tree

My twelve days of Christmas
E

was nothin' but lies
Am
E
Am

I, run at you hard like a sumo (sumo)
E

They say I talk like a chulo (chulo)
Dm

I live in Mars, I'm not Bruno
E

Bitch I'm a dog, call me Cujo

You play your cards, I reverse on you all

And I might just draw four

like a Uno
Dm

Cállate boca mejor maricón little puto,
E

and all of you culo

They debated the level,

I've been to ghetto to ghetto
Am

Looking for something I prolly could

never find now
Dm

Shit get real up until the

beef die down
E

In truth a nigga just really want

me tied down

I've been alone and I nev
Am

er needed nobody
E
Am

Just only me and my shotty, I'll tell

these niggas to lie down
Dm

Keep all the money,

I never wanted the lifestyle

I just pray to God that
E

my son'll be alright now
Am

I said ain't no love for

the other side

Or anyone who ever want
E
Dm

smoke (Joyner)
Am

When I die I'm goin' out as the underdog
E

who never lost hope (yeah)
Am

You in the wrong cab

down the wrong path

Nigga wrong way, wrong road
E

Snakes in the grass, tryna slither fast
Am

I just bought a fuckin'

lawn mower
E
I done said a lotta things
Verse 4
Am

in my day,
F

I admit it
Dm

This is payback in a way,
Am

I regret it that I did it
Dm

I done won a couple Grammys, but

I sold my soul to get 'em

Wasn't in it for the trophies,

just the fuckin' recognition

Fuck's the difference?
E

I'm that cracker, bend the law,

fuck the rules

Man I used to risk it all,

now I got too much to lose

I been eatin' long enough,

man my stomach should be full

I just ate, lick the plate,

my buffet, lucky me

Fuck you think? (Woo!)
F
I got a couple of mansions Still
Verse 5
F


I don't have any manners
Am

You got a couple of ghostwriters

But to these kids,

it don't actually matter

They're askin' me "What

the fuck happened to hip-hop?"
F

I I said "I don't have any answers"
Am
F

'Cause I took an L when I

dropped my last album
Am

It hurt me like hell but I'm back

on these rappers
F

And actually coming from

humble beginnings

I'm somewhat uncomfortable winning
Am

I wish I could say "What a

wonderful feeling!"

We're on the upswing like we're
F
Am

punchin' the ceiling

But nothin' is feeling like anyone

has any fuckin' ability
F
Am

To even stick to a subject, it's killin' me,

the inability to pin humility

Hatata batata, why don't we

make a bunch of fuckin'

Songs about nothin' and mumble!
F

And fuck it, I'm goin' for the jugular
Am

Shit is a circus,

you clowns that are comin' up

Don't give an ounce of a motherfuck

About the ones that were here before
F

you that made rap, let's recap
Am

Way back, MC's that wreak havoc

on tape decks
F

ADATs, where the G Raps
Am

and Kanes at?

We need 3 Stacks ASAP,
F

and bring Masta Ace back

Because half of these rappers

have brain damage
Dm
F

All the lean rappin',

face tats, syruped out like tree sap
Dm

I don't hate trap,
F

and I don't wanna seem mad

But in fact, where the old me at? The same

cat that would take that
Dm

Feedback and aim back, I need that
E

But I think it's inevitable

They know what button to press

or what lever to pull

To get me the snap though (lil' bitch)

And if I pay it attention

I'm probably makin' it bigger

But you've been takin' the dicks

In the fuckin' back, ho (get it?)
Am

On the brink, any minute

Got me thinkin' of finishin' everything
F

With acetaminophen and reapin'
Am

the benefits

I'm asleep at the wheel again

As I peak into thinkin'
F

about an evil intent
Am

Of another beat, I'ma kill again
F
Am

'Cause even if I gotta end

up eatin' a pill again
F

Even ketamine or methamphetamine
Am

With the minithin, it better be

at least 70 to 300 milligram

And I might as well 'cause I'ma

end up bein' a villain again
F

Levels to this shit I got an elevator

You could never say to me I'm not

a fuckin' record breaker
Am

I sound like a broken record every

time I break a record
F
Am

Nobody could ever take away the legacy I made,

I never cater

Motherfucker now I got
F

a right to be this way
Am
F

I got spite inside my DNA

But I wrote 'til the wheels fall off,
Am
E

I'm workin' tirelessly, ayy

It's the moment y'all been waitin' for

Like California wishin'

rain would pour

And that drought y'all

have been prayin' for

My downfall from the 8 Mile

to the Southpaw

Still the same Marshall that outlaw

That they say as a writer

might've fell off

I'm back on that bull like the cowboy
Verse 6
E
Am

So y'all gotta move (yeah), y'all
E

gotta move (yeah), y'all gotta move
Dm
Dm

Give me some room, give me some room,
E

give me the juice
Am

Hop out the coupe, hop out the coupe,
E

how 'bout I shoot?
Dm

Y'all gotta move, y'all gotta move,
E

give me the juice

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5.0 (1)
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Une tête de guitare acoustique avec des chevilles d’accord

Accords
  • Am

  • E

  • F

  • Dm

Capo: 1

Transposer

0

Défilement automatique20%

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