Tom: B minor•
Verse 1
Bm
Oh shit, shit sounds hard as fuck,
turn it up in my headphones real quick,
oh shit, it's that type of shit
that makes you wanna ring out
that motherfucking six,
G
it's right for the masses,
A
that criminal mentality, fuck you.
Bm
First of all, most Chicano rappers turn to crap,
I came to hurt some feelings
as I came to spit some facts,
what the fuck is going on in this game,
it's really wack, pop those
Fell the hell off,
and threw the train off the track
First of all, half of these lovers
thought that they were black
Other motherfuckers were just imaginin'
G
The other half of these lovers
really couldn't rap
A
And the rest is just history,
that's a motherfuckin' fact
Bm
Let me take you on a tour
of this gang called Chicana Rap
No originality,
these youngsters follow that
Tryin' to be somethin' that they seen
on the YouTuber TV
To pick them out is too easy
Almost quit the game,
but realize the game needs me
It's sickenin', food stick,
they snoop, pock, and easy
G
I hit em all like a salt, it's a battery
with this criminal mentality
Bm
I ain't feeling what I'm hearing
or I'm seeing, honestly
Still sitting back steady puffing
on the vomit sweet
The game is steady falling
fast with the economy
Still making money
with this criminal mentality
And haters still hating these days
I'm still getting the stings
with semi -automatic things
G
I live how I want you chase
what you wanna be
A
Bm
Still making money
A
with this criminal mentality
Bm
I know I say a lot of shit that
people feel
but don't got the heart to speak it
Game solid and some semen
Tried my last album,
it was back to that street shit
And fuck Lady Gaga,
the radio could keep it
The radio could keep it
Yeah, the radio could keep it
And honestly the rest of that garbage
ain't playin' sweet shit
of that rotation
you won't hear me on your stations
Bm
But you might see me posted
up on vacation
Travelin' the nation,
rockin' different stages
Even overseas in Ibiza,
in Madrid, in Barcelona
Backstage sippin' on Coronas Marijuana
in them dollar bills is my aroma
Mr. Criminal gives a fuck,
I'm livin' how I wanna
run up in your Agona
get smoked with the chrono
Bm
I ain't feelin' what I'm hearin'
or I'm seein'
Honestly, still sittin' back steady,
puffin' on the bombin' suite
The game is steady,
fallin' fast with the economy
Still makin' money
with this criminal mentality
And haters still hatin' these days
I'm still hittin' the stage
with semi -automatic bangs
chase what you want to be
Bm
A
with this criminal mentality
Bm
I bounce, rock, roll, skate
Straight from the gold estate
and so they hate
Never do they run up,
nah, they know they fake it
Here with something covered up
by a nickel plate
By a nickel plate
Yeah, by a nickel plate
It ain't my fault your authors fell off,
nah, it was your fate
G
I try to tell them from the gate
Say how the gang was
Bm
But it's too late I try to tell them
but they fell and they burned
It ain't my motherfuckin' fault,
therefore my feelings ain't concerned
You left us with the gang
spread like some germs,
they left as fast as you came
That's when reality burned into
your motherfuckin' mind
Reality, you find this life,
it ain't about the glamour,
the glitter and the shine
what they cannot find
A
It's dedication, destiny,
A
Bm
I ain't feelin' what I'm hearin'
or I'm seein'
Honestly, still sittin' back steady,
puffin' on the vomit sweet
The game is steady,
fallin' fast with the economy
Still makin' money
with this criminal mentality
Your head is still hatin' these days
I'm still gettin' the stank
with semi -automatic bangs
chase what you wanna be
A
Bm
Still makin' money
with this criminal mentality
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