Kunci: D minor
Verse 1
D
Am
Smooth
Beyond the
D
Am
Beyond the
Automatic, systematic
D
Automatic
Am
Complex
Verse 2
Am
The feeling's right
The music's tight
D
Departing out of Crooklyn,
The gear the god was rocking
type way out of sight
D
Limping past the projects
Steelo type fat, solar type facts
D
Later for milk and honey,
Am
get the money out this piece
Verse 3
Relax
Am
D
I handle streets, all type slick
Am
Just like a seven no ???
Verse 4
Cause I gots the platinum voice
D
Like syrup, for delf roaming,
As they temp our perms, plus
I ride the iron worms
Am
from the boogie with no faking
Ghetto to my marrow, then
Ease on back to Crooklyn
D
Hold it, as loot in my timbs and
Parlayin where Malcolm stood,
now brothers push they blow out
Am
dig me picking my fucking 'fro out
Limping up the one tree fives
The p- jects
Am
That's word to green herb
Now the curbs
I play that like, primo supreme hustler
F#m
Am
loyal to kick and dirty snare
Little panther
Answers to the nom de plum butter
D
Am
Nice, preciser rubber, slicer and cutter
In a freshly dip state, I contemplate
My honey gets the loot out,
what's shaking
F#m
D
Am
dreaming being in the central ave. bus stop
Then I call bust out, wassup?
D
Seems that the dream team's me,
F#m
D
Am
Mecca the god, and Sulaiman
Verse 5
Am
If your beats is phatty
Verse 6
Am
D
Am
Hey, hey, hey
Verse 7
Am
Easin in as slick as I can
Interlude 1
D
Am
D
Am
Verse 8
Am
You know my motions, slimmer with no limo
I ride the c local, and tilt my army brimmer
Milt bless the vibes, pro symbolize
my clique then amplified
Sounds as we ease,
beneath the New York moon
Pounds as we dip,
increase these New York tunes
Am
It's the universe I have
Nappy and happy,
June 12th, I self don't say that exists
Am
Imported on the ships,
with irons around the fist
D
Am
Gradual to afros, black cats, and fist picks
Still creating boogies,
and the styles they want
for the styles we flaunt
Am
But I, seen it sunny, plus seen rain
D
Plus seen my moneys getting
I face left in the round up
Pound up the god
Blow to the essence
Am
Sinks deep down into the blue train cover
D
F#m
The real got surreal cause we
Am
feel you ain't a gangster
When I was a youngster ate
jazz and black
D
F#m
Am
Freedom had a pistol it was just like that
Old earth gave me kisses to her
coach and power records
D
F#m
Pumas these flavors busy b
D
Am
mic checkin's
The crown says I'm down,
from the ground up
Verse 9
But what if emcee comes
D
Am
Come on, emcee go
D
Verse 10
Am
D
F#m
Am
Easin
D
Verse 11
Am
The feelings right
The music's tight
D
Departing out of Crooklyn,
The gear the god was rocking
type way out of sight
D
Limping past the projects
F#m
Am
See my man, a'ight
Verse 12
Am
When the mic check counts
My amounts is cash
Am
I get that loot out cause I'm fresh
Hit you with the gold front grin,
with diamond look
D
Muhammad made em, Nikki paid him
I tell an emcee in a eye blink
That you wack as crack
And we both can laugh
Verse 13
we swift this
Lifted up on luck
F#m
Am
brass and brown skin
We of this, built this with
south boogie down
D
Bronx
Verse 14
Outs the clowns, in the suits
Verse 15
Am
I tell' em
Pass the ruck,
or get stuck by my comrade's badge
D
Just like my mom and dad had it
Verse 16
Am
D
Am
Easin in as slick as I can
Verse 17
Am
D
Am
quiet please
Welcome to this class
D
Am
Black studies 700 the art of easing
I'm your conductor
Take a look at your syllabus
Am
You are required to be plushed out,
and dip daily
D
Guess, army suits, timbs,
Am
lugz, whatever
Quiet please in the back, quiet please
Am
You will have two texts
D
Am
And finally, we are taking a field trip
To the East Star Housing
D
Projects speak perfect slang
Am
Black caeser, superfly, golden
These are the images we want
you portrayed in
Please, could you be quiet
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