Tonalité : Db major
Verse 1
C
MTM, hit 'em with the heat
Am
Ayy, I'm back in a cycle
Feel like a psycho
Feel like I'm Michael, yuh
Don't look at my bread, don't look
at my whip
G
Am
Take a look at my FICO,
yuh
G
Am
I'm pacing and thinking of robbing
a bank with the homies I hang with
These hoes wanna make it,
G
Am
the bank or the banquet
C
Come hang with the gang get shady
G
C
Drunk drive in a Mercedes .45 on
G
C
Am
the hip daily
Screaming out, "Fuck you! Pay me"
I ain't patient, I got OCD
G
Am
Feel like I'm not controlling me
Still them hoes gon' fall
G
Am
for me
Pussy that they offer me is often
G
Am
not too luxury
But let me see what that lick read
Triple digits in the six speed
C
Think I fell in love when
G
that bitch hit me
C
G
C
I might fuck around and bust her down
G
C
and buy a Bentley
G
C
For that bitch while you was fucking with them lames,
G
I made my baby momma rich
C
Baby, play with
Verse 2
my dick not my emotions
Shed so many tears that I could
G
Am
fill an ocean
F
We was coasting, now we roller coasting
G
Am
F
Look inside my eyes and feel the
G
Am
pain that you put on me
F
C
I just pray to Peep that you
F
G
don't leave me lonely
Am
F
G
Am
Thousand bitches but they
can't do nothing for me
G
Am
You my one and only
I know you need some company
F
Am
so come on over
Do you love me, do you love exposure?
Verse 3
Am
Ayy, man, Pouya man, I got
G
Am
you man, tell these hoes, "Shut the fuck up!"
Verse 4
Yeah, check this pimping, gotta watch these women,
they catfish (They catfish)
C
G
C
G
C
And it look like Meech in the club every time I
come through tipping (Big Meech)
G
C
Drop that bag, maybe 2 or 3, that's
G
C
if she different (Drop a bag)
Wanna come back, I got that sack, it look
like Christmas (Back in)
G
C
She down to fuck, you tryna cup my nigga
luck (Ayy, you trippin')
This ain't no robbery but my bitch is stuck up,
F
ayy (My bitch bad)
E
She bad as fuck,
C
F
G
Am
well like what's in my cup
F
G
Am
F
G
Am
F
She the quicker, pick her upper, I'm loving the way she suck,
G
Am
ayy, pick me up
F
She call me Jay (Yeah, hoe), I call
her bae (Yeah, hoe)
G
Am
We ain't the Carters but that rock all in
G
Am
your face (It's the rock)
G
These bitches thirsty but these hoes ain't
Am
got no taste (Ain't got no taste)
G
Am
It's cuffing season man,
these hoes finna get replaced any day, ayy
G
Am
G
Am
G
Am
C
Am
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