Potholderz accords par
Mf Doom
Mf Doom

N/A1 vues
Tonalité : D minor
Intro 1
G#m
G#m
A
A
Baug
Baug
D#
D#
G#m
G#m
A
A
Baug
Baug
D#
D#
Verse 1
G#m
G#m
I strive to be humble,
lest I stumble,
A
A
never sold a jumbo,
Baug
Baug
or cop chicken wings
D#
D#
G#m
G#m
with mumbo sauce,
Tyson is a foul holocaust,
A
A
D#
D#
Hitler gash your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up
G#m
G#m
Ig nore Cordon Bleu, stand up,
A
A
get up, lunch for your knife
D#
D#
G#m
G#m
Don't forget your pot holders
A
A
Hot shit, what? These old things?
D#
D#
About to throw them away
G#m
G#m
With the gold rings
that make them don't fit like OJ
A
A
D#
D#
Usually I take them off with oil
G#m
G#m
or ole MC's
as crabs in a barrel past the old bay
A
A
Baug
Baug
D#
D#
Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it
G#m
G#m
Working on a way that we
can roll away tinnit
A
A
Baug
Baug
Some say the price of holding heat
D#
D#
is often too high
G#m
G#m
You either be in a coffin
or you be the new guy
A
A
D#
D#
The one that's too fly to eat chupai
G#m
G#m
Never too busy when
A
A
it comes down to you and I
Baug
Baug
D#
D#
A lot of niggas wish to die
G#m
G#m
They need to hold their horses,
it's bigger fish to fry
A
A
D#
D#
You're on the list, if not,
pick a number spot
G#m
G#m
Ten and a half
A
A
Timbs is made to kick your bumper climb
D#
D#
G#m
G#m
I coulda had a V8, F -150 quad cab,
but I'll be straight
A
A
Money comes and goes
D#
D#
like that two -bit
G#m
G#m
Hustle that night to try to rush me
Dwight passed the dutchie
A
A
So I could calm down
D#
D#
so they don't get it twisted
G#m
G#m
Take it from the fireside
and won't get enlisted
A
A
G#m
G#m
Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit
These metal fingers be holdin' hot shit
A
A
When I was four, I penned
D#
D#
God was born in New York
G#m
G#m
Back in 77, still got Nan in the crescent
A
A
The effervescence of God's
Baug
Baug
presence is thick
D#
D#
G#m
G#m
Un like vapor, esterol, extra roll,
word to the baker
A
A
Peace to the hard -workin'
D#
D#
gingerbread makers
G#m
G#m
Looked up and down, said,
hmm, too much make -up
A
A
D#
D#
Poor music tastes ten years from
being grown -up
G#m
G#m
Rappers don't blow up, heads do
Aw, shit
A
A
My name is Dwight Spitz,
D#
D#
I'm a sonic addict
G#m
G#m
I used to think it was
merely a nagging habit
D#
D#
Born under a bad sign
G#m
G#m
I'm serious about this curse of mine
I strive to flip it in the fine wine
A
A
Barely born a virgin is
Baug
Baug
D#
D#
what the stars said
G#m
G#m
Black, not white, red all over,
though, like Elmo
A
A
D#
D#
28 years have passed,
I feel I'm peaking
G#m
G#m
I make music every weekend
A
A
D#
D#
It's a chore, a fact of life
G#m
G#m
A labor of love, I get mad love
but I detest the labor
A
A
And it's wages, you know death
Baug
Baug
D#
D#
G#m
G#m
I'm serving life from this gift of God
A
A
Don't forget your potholders,
my niggas
Baug
Baug
D#
D#
G#m
G#m
Mojito
A
A
Mojito
D#
D#
G#m
G#m
A
A
Mojito
Baug
Baug
D#
D#
G#m
G#m
A
A
Baug
Baug
D#
D#
G#m
G#m
A
A
Baug
Baug
D#
D#
G#m
G#m
A
A
Baug
Baug
D#
D#
A
A
Baug
Baug
D#
D#
G#m
G#m
A
A
Background music playing.
Baug
Baug
D#
D#
G#m
G#m
A
short time later.

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AccordeurE A D G B E
AccordsG#m A Baug D#