Tonalité : D minor
Verse 1
Em
"Shit! Rick!
G
Am
Em
C'mon man!"
G
D
Em
G
D
Em
G
Am
D
Em
"Ricky!"
G
D
Em
G
Am
D
Em
Am
C
Am
C
Am
C
Am
"Help me! Help me! Somebody,
help me!"
"Ricky, Ricky!"
F
C
"Ricky!"
Am
Verse 2
C
Blood of a slave, heart of a giant
Am
Had to leave Aftermath,
Dre said I was too defiant
That was five years ago,
C
look how fast it go
Am
Destroyin' Interscope, shot
myself like Plaxico
Dm
C
But fuck that, blaze one,
where the matches yo?
Am
Hit the freeway and see
how fast the Aston go
Dm
Roll the window down,
C
clip off the ashes so
Am
You can see all my diamonds and how
much cash I blow
C
How many bitches I fuck,
how many cars I drive
G
Am
How many goons I got,
count 'em and they all outside
C
Niggas try to shut me up like Malcom
Am
But standin' in the window caine
Verse 3
smoking was the outcome
Dm
C
Sometimes I get a little stressed
and pop a Valium
Am
Hit Hollywood late night and knock
down a stallion
Dm
So niggas think twice about
C
my medallion or
G
Am
You'll hear Cuba Gooding yelling "Ricky!"
My nostalgia is one hundred percent
C
Compton and zero percent snitch
Am
Park a Bentley and the Phantom
on blocks while I use the pitch
Made the Cincinnati fitted more
C
famous than Griffey did
G
And just to think,
Am
several years ago they tried to split his wig
Dm
C
Two to the chest, struck his heart,
one hit his rib
Am
Then I blacked out, like a movie,
all I could hear
Dm
C
Verse 4
Am
Feelin' all fucked up, woke up to a doctor
C
Am
All I could think about,
was that the cops took my weed and my choppers
C
They want me to sing, like Sinatra,
Am
I told the detective
Get this clear like Belvedere vodka
Dm
Them five shots,
C
they created a monster
Am
Hell's Kitchen comin'
straight out of Compton
Dm
I seen Boyz in the Hood,
C
Morris Chestnut was a actor
Am
2Pac was the real life "Ricky!"
Then they shot down the nigga that shot him,
C
I swear to God
G
Am
If I'm lying then Compton is
New York and I'm Rakim
I'm from where niggas get
C
murdered over stock rims
G
Am
And punched in the jaw
Verse 5
just for a cocked brim
Dm
C
Nobody mama let the cops in,
Am
we ain't got no options
Wanted to be a boxer, but I was boxed in
Dm
C
Then my grandmother house
went up for auction
Am
And that's what killed 'em,
I'm goin' back to buy the block then
C
Too many niggas locked in,
G
Am
dig up Cochran and defend all my niggas
With they faith under stockings,
rather face
C
God then twenty- five
with no options
G
Am
If Compton ain't the murder capital,
we in the top ten
C
Drive by with our face painted,
like a clown
Am
With a tre- pound,
forty shells bouncin' off the ground
Dm
C
This how my living room sound, when my brother got shot down
Outro 1
Am
C
Dm
G
Bdim
G
Dm
Am
C
Am
C
Am
Dm
C
Am
Dm
C
Am
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AccordsEm G Am D C...
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