Tom: C major
Verse 1
C
You a broke nigga, I'm a dope nigga
You a broke nigga, I'm a coke dealer
You a broke nigga, I'm a dope dealer
You a broke nigga, you got no figures
You a broke nigga, I'm a dope nigga
You a broke nigga, I'm a coke dealer
I'm you a broke nigga
I'm a dope dealer, you a broke nigga
F
Fm
You got no figures
I chase the money while some rest
OTM with a gun set
Delinquent payments
leave the sun wet
Leave a mess all over the drum set
Want mines and none less
Used to be the six man,
now they call me the brick man
C
Fm
keep a hundred clip in a stick man
F5
Fm
but I started off as a hitman
and it got me stripped
of your wristband
Get back when I click clack,
new shawty no kickbacks
Miss haps, get em gift wrapped,
body parts flicking mismatched
Left his head where his dick sat,
hand grenade where his bitch at
Put the gun where his lips at,
all for doing that chit chat
They say I'm foul,
fuck it I'll take your stack
Money long as the nail
and sore from my momma's mouth
T .B. Dennis to Mr. Chow, all
in a leap yeah
Let your maid ride
me for a cheap fare
Reshaped, part of my stature
I treat your jaw like the law
and it's getting fractured
Cop it then whip it after
This shit I'm sippin'
got me caught up in a rapture
Even when I'm throated ain't a thorn I
couldn't capture
You a broke nigga, I'm
a dope nigga
You a broke nigga,
I'm a coke dealer
You a broke nigga, I'm a dope dealer
You a broke nigga, you
got no figures
You a broke n***a,
I'm a dope dealer
You a broke n***a,
n****s knew I was standup
Heard you took the stand
when you homey and gave your mans up
Jack boys cam, you turned pussy
then gave your crams up
Police put the pressure,
you panicked and didn't get plans up
You ain't my king, I ain't your bitch,
I chased it for this shot of gin
She told you she at the gym,
I know that I'm
Prone to sin, I know that I'm prone to win
I know that I'm prone to pull up
and serve a nigga and spin
The weed musty, the juice dirty,
the blade rusty
I'm unlucky, I trip
across, you can't trust me
My slabs rocky, my track jumpin',
the fiends dusty
Fm
C
I owe poppy, my work fire, y lean busties
Any season keep the snow
like I'm Jack Frost
Five star telly,
you post it up in the crack loft
Pounds get lost in a postal,
now that's a packed load
Told a plug, double up, all
in, got the pack on
I'm a real trapper,
you niggas just some pedestrians
Polo all over my body like a equestrian
C
Shorty got that wet -hut shit wavy,
feel like I'm jet -skiin'
Slide up in that pussy, then skate off,
I call it grass -skiin'
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AcordesC F Fm F5
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