Tom: E major•
Verse 1
Verse 2
Pop all the balloons and spit in the punch,
haha yeah
Kush and the blunts
I ride through your block,
see a foot in the trunk
I don't know why they keep
playin'
G#m
They better re- plan
E
I'm giving them the blues,
A5
G#m
Bobby "Blue" Bland
E
A5
G#m
Together we stand and fall on y'all
E
Ballin' with my bloods, call it b- ball
These days ain't shit, Young Money is
I got mars bars, Three Musketeers
Come through coupe same
color as veneers
And you know I'm riding with the toast,
Yeah, now I'm back on my grizz
And y'all's a bunch a squares
A
like a motherfuckin' grid
A5
Shit, fuck with me and get hit
B
make that bitch have kids
E
Just do it, my nigga, I just did
Ain't a motherfucker deeper than me bitch,
E
This here is big biz and I scream
Verse 3
fuck "it," whoever "it" is
B
E
I am the rhyming oasis
I got a cup of ya time, I won't waste it
B
E
I got my foot on the line I'm not racin'
I thank God that I am not basic
B
E
Ow
That I am not basic
I am not a human being
Verse 4
Now come to my suite and get lockjaw,
baby
Rich nigga lookin' at the cops
all crazy
That's that mob shit, nigga,
A5
'cause people are strange
A
But I bet that AK- 47 keep you ordained
A5
You can't see Weezy nor Wayne,
B
I'm running this shit, hundred yard gain
I'm killing 'em,
see the white flag from the enemy
Shoot you in the head and leave
your dash full of memories
Father forgive me for my brash delivery
A5
E
A5
I would try you, I wouldn't lie, dude
A
A5
I must be sticky 'cause them bitches
got they eyes glued
Young Money, baby,
E
A5
we the shit like fly food
the bride's shoes
E
I stand tall like I'm motherfuckin'
9'2"
I scream motherfuck you
and whoever designed you
B
E
And if you think you hot,
then obviously you were lied to
And we don't die,
we multiply and then we come divide you
Verse 5
I got a cup of ya time, I won't waste it
B
E
I got my foot on the line, I'm not racin'
I thank God that I am not basic
I am not basic
That I am not basic
I thank God that I am not basic
I am not a human being
B
E
Re- reporting from another world
Verse 6
Magazine full of bullets,
G#m
you can be my cover girl
E
Bless got the weed rollin' thicker
G#m
than a southern girl
E
Strong arm rap like a nigga
did a hundred curls
Rock star biatch, check out how we rock
And if this ain't hip hop,
it must be knee hop
I'm higher than a tree top,
she lick my lollipop
I still get my candy from
your girlfriend's sweet shop
A5
A
Spitting that heat rock, I'm smooth,
not Pete Rock
A5
E
A5
And my- and my money on etcetera,
A5
Still get a stomach ache every
B
You better run motherfucker, 'cause we not
E
You better run 'til your feet stop
You ain't even a fuckin'
alphabet in my teapot
B
E
Colder than a ski shop,
holding on to the top
Verse 7
And even if I let go I still won't drop
B
E
I am the rhyming oasis
I got a cup of ya time I won't waste it
B
E
I got my foot on the line I'm not racin'
I thank God that I am not basic
I am not a, I am not a human being
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AfinadorE A D G B E
AcordesE G#m A5 A B
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