Tonalità: B major
Verse 1
Bb
Tamale! Tamale! Tamale! Tamale! Tamale!
Tamale! Tamale! Tamale!
A
They say I've calmed
Verse 2
Am
down
A
since the last album
D
Bb
Well, lick my dick,
Dm
Bb
how does that sound? Um
D
Bb
D
Bb
Smell my gooch, you could kiss my buns
D
And I don't give a shit,
bend my rectum
D
A
Somebody said bands make her dance
D
Bb
You think you're getting cash,
no bitch, you're dumb
The only thing that you're
gonna get is this dick
A
Wait turn this up, bitch, this my jam,
Bb
(Where the drums at?)
Here, take a goddamn picture
And tell Spike Lee he's
a goddamn nigger
And while you're at it, pass the lotion
And fapping and Xbox live, that fun
Before I come, I'm calling your sister
Em
B
Bb
When she comes over, I take picture
Instantly put it on Instagram and suplex her
Verse 3
off a building if I get banned
Bb
Tamale! Tamale! Tamale! Tamale!
Gb
Bb
Why y'all so salty, I do molly and zone
Bm
B
Bb
Can't agree bitch I'm on,
your boy is bad to the bone
Verse 4
Bb
Bring back the horns that
was played in the beginning
And tell Tony Parker that
I found his vision
And if he's tripping off my sneak dissing
Then he has to deal with
me and my minions
Tryna get a Bimmer, e46
Have you heard
A
48, motherfucka I'm great
Bb
Golf Wang prints always
cover the sleeves
A
From cuts from the Biebs, 'cause
Bb
G
Em
he's puffin' the trees, please
Bb
Eb
G
Fuck I look like, got a new bike tire
Bb
Never popped like the pussy
on a bitch dyke
Think I give a fuck, I do, I go balls
And I bust in her jaw like
(Fuck that disease!)
My urethra, hole that I pee from
Bigger than an obese snack
on Aretha
Now, turn that snare down
I'm back like I'm Rosa Parks fare
A
on the same damn bus
Verse 5
Like "you're going to jail now!"
Gb
Bb
Gb
Bb
Gb
Bb
Ta male! Tamale! Tamale! Tamale!
Gb
Bb
Gb
Bb
Why y'all so salty,
Bm
Em
I do molly and zone
B
Em
Can't agree bitch I'm on,
G
F#
D
your boy is bad to the bone
Verse 6
D
A
Bb
How much wood could a woodchuck chuck?
If a woodchuck could ever give a fuck?
A
Bb
Bitch suck dick, motherfuck you and your opinions,
Eb
Bb
(Can you kick it?)
Gb
Yes I can sir
Bb
Where the lump is sicker than
Abm
the last bar bold-er
Bb
I'm I'm a C.O. Colorado,
Abm
fuck Michael bitch I'm badder than my B.O.
F
Bb
Find me and Lance tryna
dance during chemo
Am
A
Before they repossess our
Bb
G
Bb
strong arm bands and tuxedos
Verse 7
Gb
Bb
Gb
Yeah buddy, na na na na na na na
Bb
Gb
Golf wang, golf wang, go fuck you,
Bb
Bm
Gb
Bb
na na na na na na
Why y'all so salty
G
Em
I do molly and zone
B
Bb
Can't agree, bitch I'm on
Em
G
Bb
Your boy is bad to the bone
Verse 8
Bb
Dm
How many fags can a light bulb screw?
Em
Well if I has a dick,
they be two's and sixes
Eb
And tell the NRA I'm about
to lose my shit
Cm
Dm
D
Shoot through Wayne Lapierre's
hair with a crucifix
Dm
Bb
How many ladies in the house?
Dm
How many ladies in the house
Bb
without a rich nigga, huh?
Verse 9
Bb
G
Bb
G
A little Jergens in
my palm for the jerkin'
Dm
Em
Hope my mom don't catch me,
tryna set mood
Bb
Cm
Little Redtube, fuck lotion,
Dm
D
I don't need lub e, dry fit suits me
Bb
Db
Up and down, friction with the sound,
shit's kind of disgusting
Fap time and before I flatline,
Clancy chimes in my room and catch me
Outro 1
This shit's so damn embarrassing like
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5.0 (2)
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