Tonalità: C# minor
Intro 1
Am
G#m
Am
G#m
G#m
Verse 1
Am
team be bellyaching hungry nig gas on the swarm again
Pirahna niggas bite dick,
yo Son, it's on again
G#m
What up, he made a move, try to assist it
Listen kid yo, you was born to be
a pawn but I'm a bishop
Am
Back to the novel, you Son, it's logical
How you figure god, what,
flow on the track, flip the obstacle
G#m
Now my proposal rips the global
From California to courts,
it's over God so, taste the soul food
Am
Remember baggy jeans,
the Timberlands in November
Shorty called me Santa in December
G#m
But guess what,
my Wally's got messed up
Autograph pressed up what,
blessed enough to blow your rest up
Am
We scrape that, Land O' Lake that
My dolo rapper get you sent back
Represent the gentlemens
who bent that
G#m
Flash medallions like Italians,
la costra nostra
We movin through your hood like
Am
we supposed ta, flexin'
Lex and Diamonds hold the settlement
So keep the bust the gun Boo
Like that bad ass bitch in
Dead Presidents
G#m
Add on, the billboard sloan
Check it now, you get the gold dick award
It's like jail, and it's the sixth floor
Am
Test me, floating in the S.E.,
now let's see
Half of y'all niggas built your vine
G#m
from my stress tree
Faggots, homos, yo,
my flavor liver than adobo
Stay militant kid, twist ya like bolo
Am
You fucking idiot,
playing with my Clan but you be fearin' it
Fake one, I'm guaranteed to
G#m
make you take one
Please, y'all niggas
money's gettin' low
But could you come back though,
set up shop, and get the fat glow?
Am
Tired of y'all, mostly inspired by y'all
So what the deal now, link up with us,
G#m
or put your shield down
Faggot (bitch), you fuck around
punk (seven fifteen)
G#m
We battle for cream nigga
Am
You want a pound
Verse 2
crab? Nah
let his hand swing
I ought to punch a hole in his palm
G#m
with these pointy ass rings
No more said,
knew your chump ass was dead
When I saw the four four reflecting
off your shiny forehead
Am
It's Wu- Tang nigga,
ain't nuttin' changed nigga
Still shame on a nigga,
who tried to run game
G#m
Your version of perversion,
fuckin bitches on Persian rugs
Washin niggas like detergent,
it's the surgeon
Am
Slugs propels from Bobby
Steele's 12 gauge
Front page, "Daily Chronicle" reads
"Hell up in Gotham,
take heed and protect yo' seeds"
G#m
You fall like autumn leaves,
you lack tranquility
In your rap utilities,
to fuck with the abilities
Am
Race like a sperm cell to the ovary
Microphone post tone like
a rotary phone
Ancient poems and poetry,
G#m
old sloans
Explosive head bullets,
black hooded
Timberland footed ninjas, who
full metal jacket clips
Am
And know how to put it in you
Surrender your goods
and your merchandise
For no purchase price, I'm certainly a heist
G#m
For your ice and curtains
and vice
Come quietly,
Wu- Tang Clan rules society
Because of variety,
Am
so maintain your high anxiety
And lead them to defy me, diary, ya Irie?
G#m
I need 18 points for my next joint,
this high annointed king
To make a deal, I be the one to appoint
Am
Steve Rifkind must have been sniffin'
To catch somethin so dope,
it left Monica Lynch pussy drippin'
G#m
I fuck hundreds of bitches,
and split millions of dollars
And built with thousands of scholars
Am
My life saga from the hill to the harbor
Legal kid brown in Nicaragua
Gave birth to MC's, thieves
and bank robbers
G#m
We drove ex pensive whips
and took worldwide trips
And my dick's been sucked
G#m
by the finest lips
Am
Fancy delicatessens, and
the world's best refreshment
But none of the above compare
to the one- twenty lessons
G#m
Or my queen and my seeds,
in the home that I rest in
Verse 3
Enter my zone get blown to 99 sections
G#m
Am
This rhyme has no limitations,
Am
this time there's no hesitation
Collecting minds at the door,
G#m
G#m
you want it niggas it's yours
The flavors raw,
G#m
what the fuck you think I'm flowing for
Am
It's rhyme and reason, bite the bullet
Am
Am
Niggas is foul and it's duck season
We at odds 'til we even motherfucker
G#m
Bad asses, high times, lower classes
Taste mine, straight shots
G#m
in dirty glasses
Am
Bring it to him, room service,
under pressure
And mad nervy,
G#m
wavin guns at the clergy
Ticallion, we ain't worried
Keep them sick niggas
G#m
seven- thirty
Picture this, watch the birdy
Am
These bastards is Ol an
Am
d Dirty
With sharp pins that be stabbing you
Pins and needles, needles and pins
G#m
Nuff said, dick in your mouth
G#m
G#m
like Tempest Bled'
G#m
As I race track with thoroughbreds,
G#m
duck in the feds
Verse 4
ice look fly up on
the keyboard son
Niggas ran up on me law,
G#m
praising what we do by the lords
That's right, exile the fake,
G#m
hit them niggas like weight
Feed 'em food, let the fake evaporate
Am
Reconstruction, that's the whole science on my,
production
Y'all niggas guess who stuck son,
G#m
left his nuts hungs
Switch, finger itch,
starin' at you like a bitch
Maybe y'all niggas snitched
G#m
Am
Youse a loner, Adidas shell top while I
Sip a Corona, read the Robb Report,
then bone her
G#m
Buy you some jewels, here's some food
E
G#m
Not necessarily mean to be rude boo,
Am
check out the analoo
We in the mushrooms,
chased the high neck in the custom
Baggy jeans, thick ropes god,
G#m
sliding through customs
Chill, y'all niggas know what time it is
E
James Bond Beamers behind
G#m
me on Bacardi Limon
Am
Check out the pitch like Nolan Ryan
He caught a slug for lyin'
Yeah you was lyin',
where's the cash, cryin'
G#m
Militia, rollin' in position
Casa Blanca Cuban Link Christian
Lex retali' back whistlin' fake fucks
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AccordatoreE A D G B E
AccordiAm G#m E
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