4 the Record: accordi di
Boogie
Boogie
Buddy
Buddy

N/A
Tonalità: G# minor
Verse 1
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Woo hell yeah, let's talk to the
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niggas that do the most
I'm here, back again
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It's your boy [?]
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For the record, I like [?]
Ya heard?
And that's how we do it,
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for the
record
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This is for the record
Verse 2
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(hey)
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This is for the record (hey)
Hell yeah
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This is for the record (hey)
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This is for the record (hey)
Hell yeah
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Hey, man I'm in this whole
Verse 3
wire
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Stay up, I don't ever get tired
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Heat it up, with a little more fire
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Headed up, we can only get higher
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Man, your girl give me head, like a visor
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I ain't fuck that bitch, she a liar
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You ain't heard that I roll with the writers
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Give it up bruh, you don't
wanna try us
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Every time I hit the road,
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they be linin' up
All these hoes see me on,
now they signin up
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Gettin' money, I'm a sole proprietor
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Keep on sleepin' if you want,
man, that's fine with us
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Fm
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Back it up one time for a nigga
Mix a little bam- bam with the liquor
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No, we don't got no problems
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over here bruh
And we gon' touch a mil' before
the year is up
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This is for the record
Verse 4
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(hey)
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This is for the record (hey)
Hell yeah
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This is for the record (hey)
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This is for the record (hey)
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Hell yeah
Verse 5
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Money on my mind, for the record
Runnin' through the marathon,
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for the re cord
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And I put that on God,
for the record
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Somebody might die, for the record
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Rest in peace, nigga Eazy- E,
for the record
Mike & Keys, nigga on the beat,
for the record
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We could do this all night,
for the record
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Comin' from the Westside, for the record
Verse 6
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This one for the pressure
This one for the bitches,
that ain't givin' me no effort
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This one for the L,
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shit they only made me better
They remember every fade,
and sayin' this one for the record
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I can 't rectify the pain or
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the story of my gang
Ain't no freedom for my brain,
with a 40 and a chain
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You know devils love to play,
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in the shadows of my brain
I can't elevate or change,
if all I ever do is hang
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Really, all I see is shame
"Where my city at?"
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Nigga, you too broke for you to know
where all the bitches at
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Homie on parole and he can't smoke,
so he gon' hit a Black
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You let somebody use your lighter,
you don't get it back
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I'm really at... I'm really in a bad place,
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and I ain't seein' good much
Tell me throw my fist high and
I just throw my hood up
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How you know your roof high,
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if you ain't ever looked up (uh)
Some shit I never understood
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But I know this one for the record,
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I know this one for the death
They'll have niggas spendin' money
'fore we even see the check
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Serena made it outta' Compton,
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she forever get re spect
A parallel to how ya'll sit
and do it for the 'net
I say...
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This is for the record
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You know
Verse 7
what I'm sayin'
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For the record...
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It ain't nothing like fucking with [?] and you ain't got to motherfucking split it wit nobody,
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nigga. And that's really for the record, nigga
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I put that muthafuckin' money in my pocket and I know,
shit, I [?]
That's on God, nigga, for the record

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