Tonalité : C minor•
Verse 1
Fm
MC,
Golden
Cm
Child,
We
Fm
Crafty
Fm
G, I had this crazy dream last night man
Cm
The world was upside down yo
Everybody was trying to get in the industry
Fm
Bb
All I could say was
Fm
Cm
I swear y 'all, where's the fans y
Fm
Ain't nobody even sitting in the stands y
Cm
Fm
You rap, and it's produced, one,
Bb
Cm
ah, shut the fuck up
It's like I went to sleep last night
and things were all fine
Fm
Woke up, all of a sudden, everybody rhymes,
Cm
that's how this shit seems
Fm
Every time I turn around, all I hear is,
Bb
yo, let me spit sixteen
Cm
Is it me, or do I got a sign on
Fm
my forehead that says
Wanna get signed?
Just rhyme, go ahead
Cm
All this rappin' got me stressin',
Fm
Bb
I wonder if this only happens in my profession
Cm
Like when
Jordan had the number one spot
Fm
You think they ran up on him, like
You gotta see my jump shot
Cm
I don't know, maybe it's just me
Fm
But you should need a license
Bb
to call yourself a
MC
Cm
You must be joking, right?
Fm
You ain't dope for tight
And people had the last
night at the open mic
Cm
When they called for heads
to go up and spit
Fm
The whole club got on stage
Bb
Ain't that some shit?
Cm
I swear y 'all,
where's the fans y 'all?
Fm
Ain't nobody even sittin' in the stands y
Cm
You rap, manage,
Fm
Bb
Fm
Cm
produce
Fm
Cm
Fm
Bb
Fm
Cm
I be platinum, believe your ears
Fm
If I sold every demo I received in the last
Cm
three years I ain't bragging,
but I been around the world
touring
Fm
You never left your house,
Bb
you just stay on
the forums
Cm
Open for criticism, every time I spit it
Fm
But who the fuck died and made
you the head critic?
Cm
Be the ones with no talent,
whining how?
Fm
Always got something to
Bb
complain about, like
Simon
Cowell
Cm
I would've made the first verse the third
Fm
More ad -libs than before the
chorus had a bridge
Cm
Like you got the formula for making a hit
Fm
Only time you ever drop
Bb
Fm
something nasty is taking a shit
Cm
If you got something to say, make it legit
Fm
But it seems like these bastards
ain't gonna quit
Cm
See they'll diss you,
knowing that they raps ain't official
Bb
Fm
Turn around and be like, can
Bb
Cm
I do a track with you?
I swear, y 'all, where's the fans, y 'all
Fm
Ain't nobody even sittin'
in the stands, y
Cm
You rap and it's produced
Fm
Bb
One, uh, shut the fuck up
Cm
I swear, y where's the fans, y
Fm
Ain't nobody even sittin' in the stands, y
Cm
You rap and it's produced
Fm
Bb
One, uh, shut the fuck up
Cm
I know you feel like every day
you get a big close -up
Fm
In your
Boom
Dolo, spittin' the
Chase poster
Cm
It's cool to chase dreams,
but I'd advise
Fm
Bb
You play it safe, don't quit your 9 to 5
Cm
That's just reality, stop duckin' it
Fm
Like eatin' steak with a butter knife,
you ain't cuttin' it
Cm
Oh, cuz he your cousin?
You got him on the track?
Fm
Demo didn't even make it to
Bb
the bottom of the stack
Cm
Sick of so -called producers,
y 'all get tired
Fm
Kick the same sales pitch,
yo, my shit is fire
Cm
If that's true, get your turn to see me
Fm
But your beats ain't even
Bb
hot enough to burn a
CD
Cm
They never fail to blow my high
Fm
Talkin' bout I manage so
-and -so with it, blah -blah -blah
Cm
I sign autographs, shake hands,
and never think
Fm
Bb
Cause nowadays, fans are damn near extinct
Cm
I swear y 'all, where's the fans y
Fm
Ain't nobody even sittin' in the stands y
Cm
You rap, manage, produce,
Fm
Bb
one, ah, shut the fuck up
Fm
Cm
I swear y 'all,
where's the fans y 'all?
Fm
Ain't nobody even sittin'
in the stands y 'all
Cm
You rap, manage, produce, one,
Fm
ah, shut the fuck up
Cm
Fm
Where they at?
Cm
Fm
Nobody.
Cm
Fm
Where they at?
Nobody.
Cm
Fm
Cm
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AccordeurE A D G B E
AccordsCm Fm Bb
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