Kunci: F# minor•
Verse 1
F#m
Bm
Uh,
Bm
F#m
uh!
Bm
F#m
Bm
F#m
Ah? Ah?
You got Moesha E?
You got your Indonesia B?
You got the street sweeper broom?
You got your chronic there too?
Bm
Might not know how to read and right but I do
Verse 2
know Arm & Hammer
If the screen from a tweak of crack
F#m
turns black that means it's bamma
Bm
If it's too many seeds in your weed,
then chop 'em down
If your bud gets bogus,
F#m
then run his ass out of town
I'm on the car key to ?spread terminal
F#m
Pockets full of hundreds, can't seem to find no ones,
engine revin'
Smebbin', talkin' hel
Bm
la shit to the cashier
Pi- pi's get right behind me askin me how
F#m
much I been had to drink
And I said, "A beer"
Bm
Blitzed, out of my wits,
drivin' drunk
F#m
Let's see I done hit one, two,
three ain't no tellin' how many skunk
In and out of the holdin' cell,
Bm
blood alcohol like a warrior
And I refuse to answer any questions without
F#m
the advisory of my lawyer
Verse 3
Bm
I been in it, all around it, co- founded
Did it when I done it,
F#m
I musta been blunted
Bm
Ninety- six hundred for the two piece
F#m
I let the homie K- One run through these
Bm
Places that I roam I let the hustle on
I wonder if the chip
F#m
in the next telephone
A bad motherfucker for the
F#m
And you niggas need to know this shit
You got Moesha E?
You got your Indonesia B?
You got the street sweeper broom?
You got your chronic there too?
Verse 4
Bm
I got the turf on lock, twenty- six glocker
F#m
One beeper on my side gotta be in
the house by eight o'clock
Organized crime bitch,
F#m
Get off his dick and get on mine bitch
Verse 5
Bm
I be smokin' like a broke- down
Coupe DeVille
F#m
Poppin' them generic
brand Golden Seals
Parole can't hold me,
Bm
and neither could y'all
F#m
Bitch me and my Click is off the wall
Bm
I fucks with everybody to somebody,
Verse 6
major factors
To niggas you can't
understand shit
F#m
Then nigga you must got your mask
on backwards
Verse 7
Bm
Tiptoeing through the hood nigga,
is no good nigga
F#m
Gotta have a pass, so we get that ass
You got Moesha E?
You got your Indonesia B?
You got the street sweeper broom?
You got your chronic there too?
Verse 8
Bm
Now the parties don't start until
we walk in
Drunk off that gin,
F#m
down to check yo' chin
I'm a mannish motherfucker
Bm
with the chips and bread
And enough,
F#m
to have your head kind of tough
Bluffin don't exist,
Bm
we pull the whole cards
Tail between the legs
F#m
when you walk in the yard
Em
Bm
So if you hard, and wanna stay that way
You better watch what the
fuck you play
Verse 9
It's bring yo' own bottle,
'cause I be likin'
Bm
To get to perkin' somethin'
awful
And compute that motherfucker
slurrin'
F#m
Talkin' crazy to bitches,
weeble- wobblin'
Burpin', gurgin', stomach
Bm
growlin off the hinges
F#m
Lurkin', torqin' my stay high
s with Red Ledges
I'm tryin' to get that fast
Bm
quarter, fuck a slow nickel
Run a smooth ass operation without
F#m
gettin' caught in the pickle
Take my cool ass on a vacation
Bm
that maybe someday stop
Buy me an empty commercial lot
F#m
And turn it into a car
wax wash and detail shop
You got Moesha E?
You got your Indonesia B?
You got the street sweeper broom?
You got your chronic there too?
F#m
Bm
All
F#m
Bm
tha
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