Tom: A minor•
Verse 1
Dm
Am
Dm
Am
I know 'Pac woulda
Dm
Am
loved this one here
[Chorus:
This gangsta livin', weavin' dope dealin',
It's gettin' strange, and dangerous,
Am
but that's the way shit goes
Verse 2
This nigga needs no introductions
I'm on this book, and I'm stuck,
Dm
I'm really the wrong one to fuck wit
See T- Double known
Am
for startin' problems but
Dm
Am
K- cutter be the problem solver, if I
Sell you a book nigga stick it
'Cause for every you check you slippin'
Dm
they can call me Flipper
Am
I only I missed a few niggaz (uh- huh)
Dm
But he lost a couple more vis-
Am
a kidney and his liver
Had to tell him mind me a nigga
I was like uh- huh, click click,
Dm
see'mere, don't run nigga
Dm
Where yo' connect, where the sack,
Am
where the money where the blow is
I heard Papi got them freighters
Now either he gon', give 'em to me,
Dm
or a nigga gon' take 'em
Am
The dope game's just too overrated
Dm
Am
And to tell why'all the truth a lot of
why'all ain't gon' make it
Done went from crack slingers
to R&B singers
Before the mic's on,
Dm
you was already singin
Am
It's just a song was a big hit
Dm
Am
He named me and his bitch on the
Verse 3
Verse 4
Dm
Am
And to hell with bein' a man about it
Shit they got fo' niggaz and one gun,
Am
Somebody better tell 'em
Dm
And put him up on {?} somebody
Am
fuck around and kill him
You see cause snitches get stitches
And there ain't that much of a difference
Dm
between tellin' and snitchin'
And I ain't gon' keep on talkin'
Dm
I'm gon' walk right up to you niggaz and go
And I ain't leavin' no witnesses
And don't get drunk and confess
Dm
to none of why'all misses
Am
See I know how to control my Hennessy
Am
play crazy like them Dominicans
See cause poppa was a rolling stone
He said, son get your gun,
Dm
it's a war and it's on
So why'all go on and bob
Dm
Am
Throw up the 4's for the niggaz, that's dead
Interlude 1
and gone
Am
Dm
Am
Dm
Verse 5
Verse 6
'bama- ass weed
Niggaz out there sellin' backyard
Dm
boogies full o' stems and seeds
Am
They whoopin' the rocks and
we compressin' the coke
Dm
Am
They makin' it hard for them {?} to smoke
I went to jail tryin' to get
high; nigga told me
To go to hell went and called
Dm
him, told him come get me out
Am
So our father, who art in heaven
Dm
It must be the devil cause somethin'
Am
wrong with these niggaz
Nope - and crazy ain't the word
They say the stupid shit like Trick why don't
Dm
you front a nigga a bird
Am
Fo' what, so you can smoke it up?
Dm
Impress hoes, buy clothes,
Am
and make a nig ga come fuck you up?
The game hard on a player
You coulda started with a block and now
Dm
workin' just for quarter fare
With all the cards I sold the hoes
Am
Dm
left me all by myself
Am
And the game don't even care!
Dm
Outro 1
[Chorus: Repeat 2X]
Dm
Am
Dm
Am
Dm
Am
Dm
Am
Dm
Am
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