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