Tonalità: B minor
Verse 1
Am
(feat. Bluechip, JT)
(JT)
Another G- Man Stan production
The originator of this 808 shit
F
in the Bay area
Em
You got your boy JT the Bigga
Figga
Am
thuggin it out with my young nigga the Game,
and my homey Bluechip
F
Blacksox, oh boy! Hooked
up with Get Low Records
Em
Am
Put tin this shit together, my nigga
Verse 2
It ain't a nigga in the game
that could hold me down
I've been independent forever
so they know me now
And I'm the cat they gotta find
F
when they wanna get signed
Am
Em
You wanna get your paper right
you gotta study my grind
Am
I'm like Rush in "Krush Groove,"
a nigga that bust moves
right out, and tuck tools,
bullets that bust dudes
Ain't no beef in the briefcase,
F
just beef for Pete's sake
Em
We round up cats,
Am
to beat 'em in a street race
We count paper up,
to make a nigga change his plans
They under weight so they ain't
gettin off they gram
F
You mad at my boys,
Em
cause we choppin 'em in
They make twenty then the
Am
Fig want 10
That's the rules that the Get Low, play by
The block boys stay high,
F
California stock with K- 5
Am
F
It's the rules that the Get Low play by
Em
Them block boys stay high,
Am
the California K- 5
Verse 3
(Chorus: The Game) Huh,
it's the Blacksox doin
a joint together
The whole world stoppin to listen,
ol' breakers poplockin to this
F
And white boys headboppin in 6's, niggaz boxin
Am
Shit bang hard like a conjugal visit
And the game ain't big enough
for niggaz so move over
Matter fact, move out,
we takin over
F
Them boys is comin,
and they aimin straight for the neck
Em
The B- L- A, C- K, S- O- X
Am
(Bluechip) Yo, yo, well it's
Verse 4
the B dot L dot,
you know the rest
Wanted by the feds, hated by the ATF
F
You can catch me at the DuPont Inn,
Em
two dykes swallowin gin
Am
Shorty sucked me out of my Timbs
My bad, that's your wife?
Fuck your life
Anyway I heard you workin for vice
F
You ain't real man you hide behind ice
Em
Youse a impostor,
Am
snatch him off the roster
Always live by the rule, get dough,
or die tryin
Hardcoded into shinin
F
Pass the bucket now I'm back on bet it
Em
If, beef was erased man
Am
my tool gon' finish
Never been the loudmouth type
Sugar Shane of this rap shit,
southpaw when the mac spit
F
Listen rookie,
don't make me mad boy
Em
Or you gon' be like Big,
Am
a dead (Bad Boy)
(Chorus)
Verse 5
Am
(The Game) Huh,
F
Em
Am
F
Em
Am
niggaz think
they got the game sewed, yeah right
I'm air tight, fresh in them Air Nikes
F
If the Navi outside, I might be there
Am
Em
Am
Black hoodie, black 9, black wifey air s
Rock guns like Caddy trunks,
keep a spare
You see the lump under the Iceberg
fleece and gear
F
And when the beef cook,
I'ma put the piece to your head
Am
And if you see a white truck
Em
that mean yo' sheets is dead
Am
Then I'm goin goin, back back
to the block to dump the bucket
and jump in the drop
Niggaz know I'm good with the
F
glock, they call me Chick Hearns
Em
Cause if the game on knot,
Am
I'm callin the shots
I'll wear a shiny suit for a minute
like I'm The LOX
Then get gangster with a swap
meet bag and a Jordan box
And when I die,
F
bury me with the glock, and a bucket of shells
Am
In case niggaz want drama in hell
Outro 1
(Chorus)
Am
F
Em
Am
F
Em
Am
F
Am
Em
Am
F
Am
F
Am
F
Am
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