Kunci: D minor
Intro 1
Em
F
Gaug
B
Em
F
Gaug
B
Verse 1
Em
I strive to be humble,
lest I stumble,
F
never sold a jumbo,
Gaug
or cop chicken wings
B
Em
with mumbo sauce,
Tyson is a foul holocaust,
F
B
Hitler gash your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up
Em
Ig nore Cordon Bleu, stand up,
F
get up, lunch for your knife
B
Em
Don't forget your pot holders
F
Hot shit, what? These old things?
B
About to throw them away
Em
With the gold rings
that make them don't fit like OJ
F
B
Usually I take them off with oil
Em
or ole MC's
as crabs in a barrel past the old bay
F
Gaug
B
Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it
Em
Working on a way that we
can roll away tinnit
F
Gaug
Some say the price of holding heat
B
is often too high
Em
You either be in a coffin
or you be the new guy
F
B
The one that's too fly to eat chupai
Em
Never too busy when
F
it comes down to you and I
Gaug
B
A lot of niggas wish to die
Em
They need to hold their horses,
it's bigger fish to fry
F
B
You're on the list, if not,
pick a number spot
Em
Ten and a half
F
Timbs is made to kick your bumper climb
B
Em
I coulda had a V8, F -150 quad cab,
but I'll be straight
F
Money comes and goes
B
like that two -bit
Em
Hustle that night to try to rush me
Dwight passed the dutchie
F
So I could calm down
B
so they don't get it twisted
Em
Take it from the fireside
and won't get enlisted
F
Em
Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit
These metal fingers be holdin' hot shit
F
When I was four, I penned
B
God was born in New York
Em
Back in 77, still got Nan in the crescent
F
The effervescence of God's
Gaug
presence is thick
B
Em
Un like vapor, esterol, extra roll,
word to the baker
F
Peace to the hard -workin'
B
gingerbread makers
Em
Looked up and down, said,
hmm, too much make -up
F
B
Poor music tastes ten years from
being grown -up
Em
Rappers don't blow up, heads do
Aw, shit
F
My name is Dwight Spitz,
B
I'm a sonic addict
Em
I used to think it was
merely a nagging habit
B
Born under a bad sign
Em
I'm serious about this curse of mine
I strive to flip it in the fine wine
F
Barely born a virgin is
Gaug
B
what the stars said
Em
Black, not white, red all over,
though, like Elmo
F
B
28 years have passed,
I feel I'm peaking
Em
I make music every weekend
F
B
It's a chore, a fact of life
Em
A labor of love, I get mad love
but I detest the labor
F
And it's wages, you know death
Gaug
B
Em
I'm serving life from this gift of God
F
Don't forget your potholders,
my niggas
Gaug
B
Em
Mojito
F
Mojito
B
Em
F
Mojito
Gaug
B
Em
F
Gaug
B
Em
F
Gaug
B
Em
F
Gaug
B
F
Gaug
B
Em
F
Background music playing.
Gaug
B
Em
A
short time later.
Bagaimana pendapat Anda tentang lagu ini?
PenyetemE A D G B E
AkorEm F Gaug B
Lebih banyak lagu dari MF DOOM
Temukan akor untuk lebih banyak lagu yang bisa dimainkan
5.0
Lagu terkait
Temukan akor untuk lebih banyak lagu yang bisa dimainkan
Akor populer di seluruh dunia
Akor & tab yang paling sering dimainkan oleh pengguna