Тональность: G# minor
Intro 1
F#m
D
E
C#m
F#m
C#m
F#m
E
D
E
Verse 1
F#m
I gotta make it,
D
the shit is in my blood
E
The Congress couldn't cage
C#m
his middle finger so the judge
F#m
I'm rotting on this paper,
D
trying to kill him with the buzz
E
So I'm rotting on this hatin',
C#m
so I'm sitting up above
F#m
Cuz I gotta make it,
D
this shit is in my blood
E
The coppers come in cages,
C#m
metal fingers to the judge
F#m
I'm rotting on this paper,
D
trying to kill him with the buzz
E
So I'm rotting on this hatin',
C#m
so I'm sitting up above
F#m
D
Cuz I had to flip a few
to get us through
E
Prick, it's true in principle
C#m
when you can't do the rent
And your rent is due,
F#m
D
forget a interview, verse,
song, interlude
E
Listen, Buddhist niggas
C#m
who these hustlers trying to ridicule?
F#m
I've been invincible,
D
doing what they intend to do
E
C#m
A lyrical miracle, little nigga,
F#m
you sick as who?
D
Who is better, not a veteran alive?
E
Can't match up what I'm measuring,
C#m
I'm heavenly supplied
F#m
I'm peddling some medicine
D
to ratting up your eyes
E
You wouldn't play corners
C#m
on an elevator ride
F#m
I can tell you ain't as wise,
D
E
the hustler is global, you're local
C#m
And only thing you're doublin'
F#m
is bothers, I told you
D
The soldier is sick and the
blow that I'm spittin'
E
C#m
HD vision is written,
your flow need prescriptions
F#m
Listen, I'm a pro,
D
that's destined to blow
E
Batter up your dough,
C#m
I'm nicer than whoever you know
F#m
Writer, I gotta make it,
D
this shit is in my blood
C#m
metal fingers set a judge
Plotting on his paper,
D
trying to kill him with the buzz
E
So I'm riding on his haters,
C#m
so I'm setting up the bomb
F#m
D
Cause I gotta make it, make it
E
The shit is in my blood, blood
The coppers cutting cages,
C#m
middle fingers to the judge
Fuck em!
F#m
Plotting on his paper,
D
trying to kill him with the buzz
E
So I'm riding on his haters,
C#m
so I'm setting up the bomb
E
I see you really came to kill niggas
on this one right here
C#m
When these niggas gonna learn?
F#m
When they gon' see,
D
E
they can't fuck with my n***a
C#m
The writer of writers,
F#m
J .R. motherfuckin' writer
E
E
You heard the man,
C#m
F#m
three albums lined up
D
E
Now n****s better catch up
F#m
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АккордыF#m D E C#m
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