Hive

Hive acordes fáciles de guitarra de Earl Sweatshirt

N/A•
Guitarra
Afinación

E A D G B E

Cejillo

Traste 1

Cejillo

Transportar

0

Cejillo

  • C

  • Em

  • F

  • Am

  • Eb

    6

  • G

  • C

  • Em

  • F

  • Am

  • Eb

    6

  • G

    • Verse 1
    C
    Em
    F

    Promise Heron I'll put my fist up
    Am
    Em

    after I get my dick sucked
    F

    Quick buck, maybe a
    Am
    Em

    gold chain
    F

    With that fucking flow that s-s-so belittles
    Am
    Em

    belittles belittles men
    C

    They tentatively tend to turn

    and go when I am finished
    Em
    F

    Stone cold, hardly fucking with these niggas,
    Am

    nigga listen
    Em

    The description doesn't fit,
    F
    Am
    Em

    if not a synonym of menace, then forget it
    F
    Am

    In turn, these critics and interns
    Em
    C

    admitting the shit spit

    It just burn like six furnaces writ it
    Em
    F

    It affixed learning them digits,
    Am

    and simultaneously
    Em

    "Dispelling one-trick-pony myths,
    F
    Em

    myths, myths, isn't he?"

    One adolescent,
    F

    fucking six-nigga energy
    Am

    energy
    Em
    C
    Em

    And crawling down fax like a
    C
    Em

    rich nigga centipede
    F
    Am

    Crack ceramic and slap a hand
    Em

    out of cash account
    F

    Stamp and shouting, thrashing,
    Am
    Em

    these niggas done let the Kraken out
    F

    Crack-a-lackin', like like like snap,
    Am
    Em

    crackle, poppin' your ammo off
    C
    Em

    Hide your face, and throw your flannels off,
    Am

    Sweatshirt, nigga
    Em
    F

    (Sweatshirt, nigga)
    Verse 2
    Am

    '87 roof top, Bronson
    Em

    Whipping hoopties tryna
    F

    boost raw chronic
    Am
    Em

    (Brutus in that booth, double scoop,
    F
    Am
    Em

    hock vomit up)

    (Sub rocking,
    Am

    thud knocking niggas teeth loose)
    C
    Em

    Bruh, I don't fuck with no cop
    F
    Am
    Em

    (Rolling with that flow swamp)

    Catch me over stove top
    F
    Am

    (Rapping to that coke rock)
    Em

    (Passionless in old Jive clothing
    F
    Am

    With them doors wide
    Em

    open)
    F

    (Dim the floor lights, focused)

    Like it's nothing,
    Em
    F
    Em
    Eb

    cause it's nothing, bitch
    Verse 3
    G

    From a city that's recession-hit

    With With stress niggas could flex metal with,

    peddle to rake pennies in

    Desolate testaments trying

    to stay Jekyll-ish
    Em

    But But most niggas Hyde,

    and Brenda just stay pregnant
    F

    Breaking news: death's less import
    Am
    Em

    ant when the Lakers lose
    F

    There's lead in that baby food,
    Am
    Em

    heads try to make it through
    F

    Fish-netted legs legs for them
    Am
    Em

    eyes that she cater to

    Ride dirty as the fucking
    C
    Em

    sky that you praying to
    F
    Am
    Em

    So here I sit, eye in the pyramid
    F
    Am

    God spit it like it's truth serum
    Em

    in that beer an d then
    F
    Am

    Disappear again, reappear bearded
    Em
    C

    On top of a lear,
    F

    steering it into the kids' ear again
    C
    Em

    Provider of the backdrop music
    C
    Em

    For the crack rock user
    C
    Em

    and the mascot, Earl
    C

    Rawer than the skinned knee cap
    Em
    C
    Em
    C

    on the blacktop

    Salivary glands,
    Em

    lighter fluid for the matchbox
    F

    Striking, wait, wait,
    Am
    Em

    who the fuck you badder than?
    F

    Boy oh boy, I'm bad as burnt pol
    Am
    Em

    lo off the grill and shit
    F

    Spitter of the Little Nick,
    Am
    Em

    nimble, rickrolling
    F

    Bitch niggas pick litter, piff-blower,
    Em
    F

    plus plus I pillage shit
    Verse 4
    Am

    '87 roof top, Bronson
    Em

    Whipping hoopties tryna
    F

    boost raw chronic
    Am
    Em

    (Brutus in that booth, double scoop,
    F
    Am
    Em

    hock vomit up)

    (Sub rocking,
    F

    thud knocking niggas teeth loose)
    C
    F
    Em

    Bruh, I don't fuck with no cop
    F
    Am

    (Rolling with that flow swamp)
    Em

    Catch me over stove top
    F
    Am

    (Rapping to that coke
    Em

    rock)

    (Passionless in old Jive clothing
    F
    Am

    With them doors wide
    Em

    open)
    F

    (Dim the floor lights, focused)
    Em
    F

    Like it's nothing, cause it's nothing, bitch
    Eb
    G
    Quit with all that tough talk,
    Verse 5


    bruh, we know you niggas ain't about shit
    C

    Come around, we gun 'em down,
    G

    bodies piled, Auschwitz

    Bulletproof outfits, weapons concealed
    C
    G

    I'm ready to kill, so test it,

    all my weapons is real
    F
    Em

    Selling thizz, couldn't tell

    him what the recipe is
    C

    Got 'em wishing that they never gave
    Em

    these weapons to kids, cheers
    C

    Send chills up spines
    Em
    C

    of fat bitches after

    Shows throwing out sandwiches,
    Em

    niggas get it how they
    F
    Am

    Live and I live for money, other words,
    Em

    I'm getting money
    F
    Am

    Little boy told me when it's time to ride,
    Em

    they'll send them for me
    F

    Ain't nobody scaring me,
    Am
    Em

    niggas ain't prepared for heat
    G

    Tools hit like pool sticks, the way I cue shit

    If this was '88, I would have
    C
    G

    signed to Ruthless
    C

    Nine-four, would've would've had
    G

    them walking down Death Row

    First is when the best go,

    hate is what the rest do

    Voice inside my head told me,

    "Wet 'em if they test you"
    Em

    So it's Raging Waters season
    F
    Em

    That yomper big as Larry Johnson,

    leave your momma seedless
    C

    Everybody hard until it's

    only God they seeing

    Kittens soft but in they songs be trapping
    G
    Em

    hard as Jeezy, I don't believe it

    But to each his own,
    F
    Am
    Em

    I ain't tripping long as I can reach the chrome
    F
    Am

    Heat your home like Southern California Gas,
    Em

    police pass
    F

    Tell 'em "Free Smalls," off Palm
    Am
    Em

    with the heat drawn
    C

    Strapped up long as the

    chief for police armed
    G

    Raised where the beasts are,

    north of the Beach

    A couple streets past Baby J,

    bony niggas spraying Ks

    Ruger with the pork face,

    Jewish for the court case
    Am

    Here to save you niggas from the sorbet,

    Coldchain
    Verse 6

    Like it's nothing, cause it's nothing, bitch

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