Tom: B minor
Verse 1
Dip sap nigga
You already know what it is man
Let's get it in
Unh okay unh
G#
G#m
Write it grind away capisce
Supply the tray to eat
And push drums out the pad
like i'm trying to make a beat
G#
G#m
Deep flippin' with her mommy
Who wishes she was Bonnie
Go pick it up from Papi
But pitch it all a blondie
G#
G#m
Grippin' on a Tommy
For bricks she go to buy me,
keep thinkin' she Punani
Get missiles through your panni,
I'm sittin' in a mazi
D
Skittin' on Asanis, nutty professor body
G#m
Real skinnier than Gandhi,
who's as fly as me fam?
G#m
there's a pound of purple waitin'
Anytime that I land,
G#
G#m
check the shines, I'm the man
And if these jewelers keep
throwin' me watches
I have too much time on my hands,
G#
G#m
damn I'm that n***a skeezer
G#
who ain't got the trick or feed her
A
G#m
she won't get a chick fajita
G#
The kid is ether, banging out your whip
G#m
And speakers with a name
that ring more bells than a trick or treat her
This the hand I was dealt
They ask me who's my favorite rapper
I'm a fan of myself
G#
G#m
Little man, you're an elf
I grip my hand on the belt
G#
G#m
And whip your stupid ass out
Till my stamina's felt
Tell me who else is hotter fam
Fuck you if you're not a fan
G#
G#m
Listen, I'm a mobster and
All my whips are Tropicana
That's a drop sedan
And Terry a chocolate tan
This shit so deep
I might as well call them pots and pans
G#
G#m
Watch this band till the bezzy gleam vital
Come check this street title
I'm every teen's idol
G#
G#m
Your baby mother bump me in the ride
G#m
Try to make me a hubby on the side
You know what I do?
I take that honey for a ride
Upstate and duct -taped,
honey up with pies
Gene me up? Never that,
a couple of them tried
But off the bat,
G#
I can see the money in they eyes
G#m
G#
G#m
See money is my drive,
so I can smell a dope getter
G#
G#m
You ain't a gorilla
G#
just cause you's a broke nig ga
G#m
I know some known killers
G#
that'll flip for no thrill
G#m
Or bury you for your chain,
now tell me who's the gold digger
The kid is on his grind,
get slick every line
G#
G#m
No matter what they throw at me,
I kill them every time
G#m
Cause I'm lyrically inclined,
they know Doola is great
G#m
G#
Three albums on the way,
hey, get used to the face
Writer
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AfinadorE A D G B E
AcordesG#m G# D A
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