Tom: F minor
Verse 1
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Eb
Bbm
Eb
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Eb
The whole city's under siege when we
C
come through wit guns blazin
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You need to take a seat son,
you just started shavin
Respect ya elders,
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The monotone flow stayin
even wit the bass
C
Oh good Lord, we throw it like a javelin toss
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Arrogance is the feature that
we added for floss
Come and get headline,
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From either rappin our ass
off or brick shipments
Cover all regions,
C
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makin sure the protty gets spread out
We talk behind the mac
you bust lead out
Wit next prospect,
C
Bbm
no particular con cept do we follow
Verse 2
Smooth but yet solid like marble
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[Diamond]
C
Niggas ain't fuckin wit D, fuckin wit me
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Lookin at me like "Yo, what can it be?"
In the wide body- 7 while
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Spent out in the wedge while
I'm fuckin for free
C
Scared to death like you stuck in a tree
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I'ma stretch your ass out like
I'm cuttin the deed
Frontin like a big man
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So you know your floss game
ain't nuttin to me
C
When the sun hits the cross,
yo it's something to see
, Kid Capri niggas runnin wit me
Twenty karats on the wrist
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Do you know good frontin to me,
Verse 3
nigga
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[Kid Capri]
Aiyyo Tone,
C
let's Touch these niggas wit the wand
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Then blow up like a bomb
Made moves faster than the autobond
The Kid Capri is a institution,
C
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and all ya'll niggas is pollution
Starin up a whole lot of confusion
It's simple,
C
let's move out all these corn cats
Bbm
And disc jock dissin MC's that got
the borin raps
Fuck what ya got,
C
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grimy niggas don't want to hear it
Niggas take it, soon as they near it,
you better fear it
Bronx Bomber,
C
the pretty- fly girl charmer
the cash keep pilin as I'm smilin
So hear me now,
C
I bring the thunder plus the rumble
Bbm
And I'll step back and watch
your whole career just crumble
Verse 4
the cheeba steamer,
C
Bbm
brains on trains, won't eat her neither
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off the plane to the Beemer
Insane and off the meter,
C
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in the rain I'll heat up
And ya'll can't stop my sunshine,
fuck one- time
Got heavy wit gats to
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Trash- ass album sound like
you played it on eight- track
C
Rip you from the roots and under
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Triple gooses in the summer
Mean long guns is producin
the thunder
C
Convertible Hummers, we shit on the glock
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Try to put the roof up,
I'll tell Show to piss on the top
Wrist on the watch,
C
roll wit a click or a glock
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Plan on gettin a lot,
from spittin or not
Cool wit niggas that be flippin a lot
C
Probably got shit on your block
I'll take it back to '88 (Nigga, get off the top)
It's two- g's, let's get this money,
you wit it or not
But I'll switch topics like my bitch
wit thongs in the tropics
Make hits, straight hits
Perform as long as I got it
Seven- digits wit my name
on the dotted
Remain Dirty and potted,
ya'll know me for the ruckus
G.D. I only can fuck wit
Get the dutch and tell Tony
to Touch it
[Party Artie] Guns, I tote them things
C
Blunts, I smoke them things
Verse 5
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Rhymes, I wrote them things
It's no such thing, as hoes fron- ting
C
We run train, I do my thug thing
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Grab the mic and leave a mud stain
So get Tide wit bleach
when I rhyme wit beats
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No pork, I don't talk,
the nines just speak
I'm the kind to creep on
C
your block wit the heat cocked
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Got the street locked,
C
smackin niggas out they Reeboks
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C
It's Party Artie, I get dirty wit the Ewoks
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The infrared hit you in the head
from three blocks
C
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Away, Been There Done That like Dr. Dre
It Ain't My Fault like
Silkk the Shocker say
C
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Ya'll niggas gots to pay,
shots'll spray
From the Bronx to Far Rock away
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strapped like Bokeem
Fuck bein in jail,
trapped wit no cream
Verse 6
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[Lord Finesse] I be the
don that's known
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More cheese than calzones, give chicks
the dialtone
Build like brownstones when
so hot comes wit a portable fan
C
Type to starve the mic when I hog the light
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Lay my life on the lines
if the odds is right
Gettin the, spot and gleam
C
while you plot and scheme
To stop the team,
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three words nigga: watch and dream
You just mad hater,
C
'cause we movin wit dough
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You don't make sense like wearin
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suede shoes in the snow
Finesse frontin? why'all know me,
that's how I broke the eject button
Don't stress dudes,
C
we just plot our next move
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Make niggas look stupid like
joggin pants wit dress shoes
The prophet,
C
shit john blaze like the tropics
Type of nigga need a ? just
Don't flex punks,
C
we sex stunts, collect lumps
You flossin now,
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you be pardon by next month
C
Type of thug, yo I was born to bug
Waitin for us to fall, nigga join the club, what
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AcordesBbm Eb C Db
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