Тональность: C# minor
Verse 1
Gb
Writer, okay, uh, I got him, just that, uh
Ebm
Fm
Back to the lab, wrap in a bag,
Bbm
roll me a blunt, pass me a pack,
your dude's goin' in
Gb
I mastered the craft,
Ebm
Fm
laugh at the past,
Bbm
fo' in the trunk, mash in the gas,
you're too slow to win
Gb
Who's dope as him?
Ebm
Fm
Bbm
Late in the line, so high,
you would swear he had a license to fly
Gb
Look up, you might even
Ebm
see him right in the sky
Bbm
So high, I should give skydiving a try
Gb
Know why? I'm getting loot and bread
Ebm
Fm
Got these little dudes fed
Bbm
Cause this rap shit to me
is easier than Superhead
Gb
That easy?
Ebm
When she move to bed, prick,
Grind
Bbm
Lyrically inclined,
every sentence get rewinded
Rewinded
Gb
The kid is in his prime Prime
Ebm
Fm
A monster on the track
Track
Bbm
Taunting all these cats
Where's the competition at?
Where they at?
Gb
They all spin crack
Crack
Ebm
Fm
The Carter couldn't match
Bbm
Match Sharper than a tack
Whole Harlem on his back Harlem
It's a fact, you couldn't yell
R or shit, it's whack
I helped build the team
and put Harlem on the map
Come holla at a Mack,
Ebm
who got this in the raps
Bbm
The next album
Ebm
Gb
I had your girl polishin' his plaits
Ebm
Uh, uh, then it's right to the street
Fm
Bbm
Light on my feet,
goonies that'll light you for cheap
Gb
Wipe you deceased,
Ebm
knife you to sleep
Bbm
even though my pockets deep
Gb
It's Barry White on the beat, sheesh
Ebm
I'm a beast with a flow like a jazz
Fm
Bbm
Puss the game so weak
that the throne's up for grabs
Gb
So I'm low on the ass,
Ebm
Bbm
with the toast on my abs
Waitin' for the spit
so I can put the hoe in the bag
Gb
It's sad, but nigga,
Ebm
Fm
I'm a pro with the past
Bbm
Put the mic there,
you're washed up and old as my dad
Gb
You're loaded with swag,
Ebm
Fm
you couldn't fly without a pilot
Bbm
You're bummed out
and better off finding you a stylist
Gb
Ebm
The future is me, and tuners can be
Fm
Bbm
Ruge an d T, shoot you for free,
salute to the G
Gb
Who's nothing but nicer,
Ebm
gunnin' the cypher
Fm
Bbm
Bot tom line,
ain't nobody out as hungry as Ryder
Ebm
Uh! Huh, you hear that, man?
Bbm
Gb
Y 'all can't fuck with me at all, man
Ebm
Gb
Bbm
Ebm
I got this shit on lock and key
And I think I might've lost the key,
so y 'all assed out, man
Huh
Bbm
Let me get my zone though, man
Let me finish smokin' this purple,
countin' this money
And, uh, turn the music up
and get in my zone, man
Let's do it
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