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