Tom: G# minor
Intro 1
Em
D
Em
G
Kick ass! First
Verse 1
D
Family!
Em
Don't let these
Verse 2
Em
motherfuckers
stress y'all
M.O.P. to the death y'all,
D
Em
the good Lord have blessed y'all
So these niggas can't touch y'all
D
Firing Squad! Yes yes y'all
Em
Good evening,
Verse 3
Em
you contaminated semen
I'm here for a different reason
D
(continue breathin)
Em
I notice you been schemin,
G
on the First Family
Em
D
(Family) Disbelieving we're
Em
(forever rockin) yeah (forever hip-
hopping and popping)
C
Yes yes y'all!
Em
I'm not a rapper,
I never made a rap song
G
C
You motherfuckers got it all wrong!
Em
I'm a man standin behind a cannon,
plannin to pop ya
We got on yo' click like
C
I'm with Trenchcoat Mafia
Em
I'm not afraid of you bitches, I raise hell
And get respect when niggas,
D
struggle for riches
Em
As the wind blow, through my window,
real slow at night
G
It shakes me in fright,
C
it's well after twelve
Em
But I still see a bright light
(take 'em back to crime time)
C
Oh you, motherfuckin right, cousin
Em
I see them fake thugs,
givin up fake dap and fake hugs
C
We appreciate the fake love
Em
Keep in mind I'm determined
to shine like my son
Industry enemy number one,
D
yes yes y'all!
Em
Don't let these
Verse 4
motherfuckers
stress y'all
M.O.P. to the death y'all,
D
Em
the good Lord have blessed y'all
So these niggas can't touch y'all
D
Em
Firing Squad! Yes yes y'all
Verse 5
Em
Don't let these motherfuckers
stress y'all
M.O.P. to the death y'all,
D
Em
the good Lord have blessed y'all
So these niggas can't touch y'all
C
Firing Squad! Yes yes y'all
Em
I'm bout to start this bitch
Verse 6
from Ground Zero (oh!)
When I start cussin and bustin,
D
niggas call pound zero
Em
I'm not just a rap AR- tist
I'm also a gat pack artist
D
Em
(oh!) gat clap artist (oh!)
And a condor, killer, set trap artist (oh!)
Send forty- pound slugs through
D
your back artist
Em
(Now that's an artist!) I
leave 'em left out
With his flesh out, layin stretched out,
D
C
sketched out
Em
(No doubt!) I still do
the same thing
Streey life is still a Fame game
C
What you thought the game changed?
Em
I hang out and break day until
the street lights go off
C
Em
Or the heat pipe go off (boom!)
It's what we pack on the Hilltop,
(true!)
G
What's the sound when
Em
C
Em
the steel pop? (boom!)
Bitch! I will dismiss you
G
D
C
You got issues, deal witcho issues
Em
I look 'em dead in the face,
pop one in 'em
And knock the venom out
C
a motherfuckin snake
Em
I'm a thoroughfy his death y'all,
and creep back through
And if he's stretched I'm
C
like yes yes y'all
Em
Don't let
Verse 7
these motherfuckers
stress y'all
M.O.P. to the death y'all,
C
Em
the good Lord have blessed y'all
So these niggas can't touch y'all
C
Firing Squad! Yes yes y'all
Em
Don't let these
Verse 8
motherfuckers
stress y'all
M.O.P. to the death y'all,
C
Em
the good Lord have blessed y'all
So these niggas can't touch y'all
D
C
Firing Squad! Yes yes y'all
Em
Outro 1
C
Em
C
Em
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