Tonalità: Bb major
Verse 1
up
Scred
up
Scred
up
How much money you got?
A lot
How many problems you got?
A lot
How many people done doubted you?
A lot
Left you out to rot?
A lot
A lot
How many lawyers you got?
A lot
How many times you got shot?
How many times did you ride?
A lot
How many niggas done died?
A lot
How many times did you cheat?
How many times did you lie?
How many times did she cry?
How many chances she done
gave you?
Fuck around with these thots
I'ma ride with this stick
I'd rather be broke in jail
than be dead and rich
make a couple bucks
My heart so cold
I could put it in my cup
and it turned me to a beast
My brother got life,
and it turned me to the streets
and it turned me to a G
But the other side was sunny,
A lot
How many problems you got?
A lot
How many people done doubted you?
A lot
Left you out to rot?
A lot
A lot
How many lawyers you got?
A lot
A lot
How many times did you ride?
A lot
How many niggas done died? lot
How many times did you cheat?
A lot
How many times did you lie?
A lot
A lot
How many times did she cry?
A lot
How many chances she done
gave you?
Fuck around with these thots
A lot
I break up on a jam, I break up
Before I left, I stopped by to see my
nigga 21 in the studio
He had two of his kids
that's when I knew him
shit like that
Getting they plays from machines
I can see behind the smoke and memories,
niggas ain't really big as they seem
I don't want smoke, I want cream
I don't want no more comparisons,
this is a marathon
And I'm aware
from a lack of promotions
I never was one for the braggin'
and boastin'
I guess I was hopin'
the music would speak for itself
I show up on every one album
I'm bettin' a thousand,
it's got to the point
That these rappers
21 Savage just hit me
And told me he sent me a spot
On the new record he got, he call it a lot
I open my book and I jot
I picture him inside a cell on a cot
Flectin' on how he
made it to the top
Wonderin' if it was worth it or not
cause they fucked up his shot
Though I never met you,
I know that you special
And that the Lord bless you,
my n***a
I'm on a tangent, not how I planned it,
I had some fans
That hopped in the band and shit
when they thought that
I wasn't gon' pan
Tell all your friends,
call on a mission,
submitting the spot
How much money you got?
A lot
How many problems you got?
A lot
How many people done doubted you?
A lot
Left you out to rot?
A lot
A lot
How many lawyers you got?
A lot
How many times did you ride?
A lot
How many niggas done died?
A lot
How many times did you cheat?
A lot
How many times did you lie?
A lot
A lot
How many times did she cry?
A lot
How many chances she done
gave you?
I break up the jam
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AccordatoreE A D G B E
AccordiAm G Em D Abm
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4.8
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