Autobiographical: acordes por 
Black Sheep 
N/A•
Tom: Gb major•
Verse 1
D
It's the brown child,
better version of the story
Sees Conji, a sister, mother played by Tori
In Astoria, kid named Tiki took the cake
The greens and the steak
and the potatoes and the plate
Never a dummy, rejections are funny
First years of my life I thought that
food stamps were money
So by ten I was the mess,
got a men and then I had friend
So now I'm snatching pocket books
with Sean Wilkinson
?Get that money,
Em
D
lil nigga' that's what they told me
I never sweated props cause like my
Em
D
pops they couldn't hold me
Em
D
Until he found shorty's got it going on,
rolling on
Who told? Damn, bendecion..
The Bland man,
Em
Bm
and my pop don't give a damn
D
The day I played with matches,
took the stove to my hand
E
Hot temperature! He told me the
D
players' version
The ego in submersion for the
E
D
end of week excursion
G
Until I'm back, back on the scene
Like a ball on the green,
D
giving strokes with my team
G
And despite the commentary pop told me,
I'm lowly
And moms change- bank
can't hold me, so
D
She don't scold me, she
G
just grabs the belt
Knuckle the buckle,
tells me all about the pain she felt
D
At the precinct when a pre- teen
G
was spotted at the scene
Came up with the green,
D
not a cop could intervene
Verse 2
[Mother]
Bm
Listen here, you little motherfucker
You ain't going to fuck with me
Got me coming to this damn
D
precinct
Bm
Dammit, I'm a kick your
motherfucking ass
Shit! You ain't going to
drive me crazy
Verse 3
D
Now, happens Tori met Tom
not too long ago
He was a nigga,, yo,
he said he had the flow though
He loved a bro,
I know I didn't see you grow
To a TV show cause the nigga
said we all could go
So I'm up and out of the ghetto,
son of a gold miner
City- slicking Carolinian standing
out like Ming china
A golden bull at heart
though I moved around
The balls bounced to the bottom,
settled at a small town
G
?Hey, boy! What's your name?!' First day,
first fight
I'm out of New York and, boy,
it don't sit right if you're white
D
G
Light were my steps from there
Did my dirt on the low,
a Southern town nightmare
D
Cause the next year it was me
G
and Ef on the furlough
We were the only Queens kids but
D
there were other boroughs
With Rockwell, D- Ski,
G
Ron Duke and Freddie
D
New York was represented like
we danced for Rock Steady
Stan had tables and
G
mics, every brother nice
D
Not only could we rip and rhyme
but backspin and slice
D
With Paris and Foxy and Christina
G
P's bust
D
You know them loud,
raunchy, trouble- making niggas? That was us
D
A menace yet still I played tennis,
ain't that cruddy
Advanced with the Reeboks, they
called them ?cut buddies'
I hung with one,
only one younger brother
Shorty Doo- Wop could cut
and scratch up any other
G
Bigger than his size, was barely five feet
In ?83 broke beats
that today rock streets
D
With no one to grade it, still
G
never debated
D
Some saw and hated but they
never contemplated
D
It was the wild child with foul styles,
G
pal but not foul
A dis was never okay unless
it came before corral
D
G
Pals of mine, peoples though were down
D
I graduate next week and, yo, next
week I'm NY bound
Seven days from that one I'm leaving
love that weighs a ton
I'm going to miss you niggas, yo,
that rapping shit was crazy fun
But I'm leaving on the next bus
I've got your numbers and we'll keep in touch,
I trust
Gliding, riding back to my domain
For love and money, fuck fame,
my life will never be the same
As the next man's words, can you dig it?
I say I got a scheme,
Bm
a- yo, I gots you figured
Verse 4
Bm
[Corner]
Yo, wassup, wassup. Is money out here?
Bm
Yo, I just got a call from
that nigga Tiki
Remember that nigga Tiki?
He on his way from
D
down South
Verse 5
My real pops was a pusher,
when we left he had a section
So I keep it in the family,
or at least I make connection
With the prime figures for
affiliated support
In my purchase of cargo in the
import and export
Flushing, Queens: back when
junkies was the fiends
My childhood friends held buddha,
had babies in dreams
I took pops off my shit list
cause he had the fitness
To help Tiki get his, what the fuck,
pop? Jehovah witness
What the fuck,
pop? What's with the fizz- plop
I'm like, I can't put him down
but the shit don't stop
Worked at a law firm, for lack of fear
I wrote a resume,
spending words like a millionaire
>From there to the bank,
see the bank's down the block
So now I'm close to home, I clock, I plot
With Popote, he's my cousin
and a wily one
Though the kid was younger,
quick like thunder
With the heart to put you under
Props even, the shit can't fail
I saw Reese, bagged with Pote
and made a sale
Bm
[Co- Dee] Go
Verse 6
ahead, get that money
Get that money!
D
Bm
I ain't going to let nobody see you
I got your back, baby, I got your back
D
You want five? You only got two
Verse 7
D
On one late night, I had
made a nice amount
More than two weeks pay,
playing with the new accounts
So I rose like a petal, fuck pops,
I run with thugs
Levis, Tims, hoodie, coat,
D
skully, drugs
Fatigues before they were the fashion
Pockets with work and others
with cash in
Thought I was cool with tools and mad trap
My pops was like ?read this?
but I was like fuck that
G
So I jingle- jangled, clocked at every angle
Tiki's getting paid and his crew's
star- spangled
D
And everyday,
G
all day night, yo, whatever
Niggas on the strip in sub- zero weather
D
G
Back before the first generation of fiends
My team was sheer cream,
D
keeping dollar bills green
Fashion, Calvin cooler,
G
playing Rick the Ruler
And I can't front on nobody
D
cause I pulled on a woolah
Back in '86 first,
G
foremost and final
Rhyming on the corner,
all I want to be's on vinyl
D
I bum rush and boom bash,
G
not even for merit
Bounce out to see Reg and
Joe down on Merrick
Bm
But mostly it's the strip
that I played like a cock
On the block until the day I got
knocked
Verse 8
Bm
[Police sirens
Bm
to fade]
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Perguntas frequentes
The original key of Autobiographical by Black Sheep is Gb major.
The primary chords used in Autobiographical are Gb, Abm, Ebm, Ab, Cb.
To play in the original key, place your capo on the 4 fret.
Yes, this version uses open chords like Gb, Abm, Ebm, Ab, making it a great song for beginner guitarists.
The tempo of Autobiographical is approximately 90 beats per minute.
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