Tom: D minor
Verse 1
Gm
Dm
Gm
Dm
Gm
Dm
Cm
Bb
I thought a man's supposed
to have a heart on the zone
But every time she snaps her fingers
you come running home
What happened to your vertebrae?
I heard a story yesterday
You said you're wearing
magic clothes
and looking real gay
Identity theft, my man, what's next?
And you ain't even getting sex, unless
Haven to the last rap
Gm
She wears the pants an
Bb
It's time to cut the strings,
you buy the rings
And you ain't even got enough
to pay the rent
Oh man, she holds your money
like a rubber band
Cm
Gm
Cm
If it was love, I'd understand
Bb
But she's usually a band,
I guess you can't see the plan
She tryna get rich and not do
shit except manipulate
And by the time you realize
it's gon' be too late
Gm
She gets commands and you
Dm
sittin' there doin' it
Cm
Guess you're just a puppet,
and she's a ventriloquist
in private and public
Swingin' on a string
and anything because he loves it
He's a puppet,
and don't think nothin' of it
Swingin' on a string,
controlled by what's above it
He's a puppet,
in private and public
Swingin' on a string,
it ain't a thing because he loves it
He's a puppet,
and don't think nothin' of it
Swingin' on a string,
controlled by what's above it
You started in the basement,
grindin' it out
Spent all your time writin' rhymes
that never came out the house
Dreamed of big things, cars and big rings
Plans with big wings,
gonna party, no doubt
You was feelin' half the love
of the streets
But the streets wasn't enough,
they made you change your beats
Change your clothes,
change your rhymes
Now it's too late to even
change your mind
They got you throwing gang signs
Cm
like you straight out the hood
Bb
You had it crackin' for
a week
and now you're played out for good
Singin' on all your cuts,
now you're doin' romances
Flauntin' money, lookin' funny,
doin' dances
And that would be cool if
it came from the heart
But you're screamin' like the sucker,
rearrangin' your art
Gm
Dm
You started off right,
there was a time when they was love
Cm
Can't make your own words,
can't make your own moves
Bb
He's a puppet, in private, in public
Swinging on a string,
it ain't a thing because he loves it
He's a puppet,
and don't think nothing of it
Swinging on a string,
controlled by what's above it
He's a puppet, in private, in public
Swinging on a string,
it ain't a thing because he loves it
He's a puppet,
and don't think nothing of it
Swinging on a string,
controlled by what's above it
Rich boy from Texas,
try and run the place
Knowing that he wasn't
even from the place
New England bred, silver spoon fed
Don't wanna do the work,
he wanna party instead
Cm
He wanna be like Pops,
we're real like props
coil rigs, white yachts
Cm
Went in the right spot,
he soon found out
Bb
Got gold bars, elections down south
It ain't sweet when the cat
and bird speak
When the puppeteer hears
every word you speak
And when you finally got in the house
Enemies poppin' up like you
was Oscar the Grouch
Gm
Bb
You went too far to turn back
the title of a fool
And you rightfully earned that
Gm
Dm
But I can't get mad at the
It's probably all in the hands
Cause he's a puppet,
in private and public
Swinging on a string
and anything because he loves it
He's a puppet,
and don't think nothing of it
Swinging on a string,
controlled by what's above it
He's a puppet, in private and public
Swinging on a string
and anything because he loves it
He's a puppet,
and don't think nothing of it
Swinging on a string,
controlled by what's above it
Cm
Gm
Cm
Bb
Cm
Gm
Cm
Bb
Cm
Oh, to hell
Gm
Cm
Oh, to hell
Gm
Cm
Bb
Oh, to hell
Gm
Dm
Oh,
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AfinadorE A D G B E
AcordesGm Dm Cm Bb
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