Tom: C# minor
Verse 1
Am
E
Yeah, I've been around the
C
Am
E
motherfuckin' world
Am
E
The fuck you know?
Verse 2
Am
When you make a new album
It's not good as the last one
Verse 3
Bb
See all them cheap- ass niggaz that review
your record
Am
Them suckers with fancy iPods, like a
Bb
E
And go on the internet like a booking
Am
agent asking you for a free show
E
Bb
They destroyed the goodness like
C
somebody pissin' in the snow
E
Am
A bunch of un derground
Verse 4
groups,
Goin' out with they ass out and
Bb
E
a cheap- ass band
C
Bb
For five hundred a night,
that's the reason why hip- hop is dead
Your venue is booked up, with
Verse 5
circus clown acts
Am
E
Bb
That perform cheaply, in your local paper
E
I see the same lame niggaz in the Village
Am
Voice and the L.A. Weekly
Bb
Am
These cats performin' for cold
Am
Need to stop immediately
Verse 6
Bb
C
People that can't find your record,
Am
Bb
stop lyin' and go to Virgin
Otherwise you should cut yourself in the
face like a surgeon
Am
Always searchin' on the web,
like you spend money
E
G
When the merchandise show up
Verse 7
Am
E
Am
E
Always talkin' out your ass
E
Am
I remember when chicks used to fuck a superstar
Verse 8
Now they want you to meet
Bb
And go home with them and
meet they brother in the car
And play some rapper who's tryin' to be Kool Keith,
Verse 9
Bb
They gettin' sick on the floor on drugs like
E
night; they takin' it too far
Am
E
After I get off stage they wanna
hop to another bar
C'mon man,
Am
I got one night in your town
Verse 10
E
You're gonna play a bullshit guy on your CD
Am
that sound like I sound
Bb
Promoters wanna talk shit
and pull me down
Pick me up from the airport in a bullshit
Bb
Bitch you ain't gotta take me around
Verse 11
E
Am
any way to rejuvenate
Oh you can hate
Am
Bb
Hippie Euro savin' bastard,
E
Am
I was there live
E
Right in London for two weeks
Am
with my fuckin' outfit
C
All these rumors how the fuck they get in your head?
Verse 12
Bb
Where you hear this shit?
I'm in Paris tonight
Verse 13
I did, I quick and split
Am
E
Am
Always talkin' out your ass
E
Am
(Shut the fuck up)
E
Am
Always talkin'
(Shut the fuck up)
Am
Bb
All them acts, y'all call them niggaz Ain't no real
Verse 14
showmen like
Am
Bb
With black t- shirts,
what's creative about this? You tell me first
These people supportin'
Am
'em wear tight- ass pants
E
Skulls on they belt buckles be the
Verse 15
Am
worst
E
I've been in three hundred
E
Am
What the fuck you gon' wait for me
Bb
to die like James Brown
E
Am
To put me on the cover of Spin magazine?
E
Pages out here that's full of
Verse 16
E
untalented motherfuckers I've never seen
Am
Bb
Young editors with a dick in they
mouth on the scene
I'm your fuckin' kid's dream,
Am
jewelry and a lot of pussy
E
Already I feel like I play on
E
Am
Whatever you don't like you can hate
Verse 17
E
I know you a guy that just got the job
Am
cause you fuckin' fake
E
I take your chick out for dinner
for a milkshake
You name a rapper you like,
I'm not funny at all duke
Verse 18
I'll take a piss in his face
Bb
Always talkin' out your ass
E
Am
E
Always talkin' out your ass
E
Am
Always talkin' out your ass
Verse 19
E
E
Am
Always talkin' out your ass
E
C
(Shut the fuck up)
Outro 1
Bb
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AfinadorE A D G B E
AcordesAm E C Bb G
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