Tonalidad: G# minor
Intro 1
Em
C
D
Bm
Em
Bm
Em
D
C
D
Verse 1
Em
I gotta make it,
C
the shit is in my blood
D
The Congress couldn't cage
Bm
his middle finger so the judge
Em
I'm rotting on this paper,
C
trying to kill him with the buzz
D
So I'm rotting on this hatin',
Bm
so I'm sitting up above
Em
Cuz I gotta make it,
C
this shit is in my blood
D
The coppers come in cages,
Bm
metal fingers to the judge
Em
I'm rotting on this paper,
C
trying to kill him with the buzz
D
So I'm rotting on this hatin',
Bm
so I'm sitting up above
Em
C
Cuz I had to flip a few
to get us through
D
Prick, it's true in principle
Bm
when you can't do the rent
And your rent is due,
Em
C
forget a interview, verse,
song, interlude
D
Listen, Buddhist niggas
Bm
who these hustlers trying to ridicule?
Em
I've been invincible,
C
doing what they intend to do
D
Bm
A lyrical miracle, little nigga,
Em
you sick as who?
C
Who is better, not a veteran alive?
D
Can't match up what I'm measuring,
Bm
I'm heavenly supplied
Em
I'm peddling some medicine
C
to ratting up your eyes
D
You wouldn't play corners
Bm
on an elevator ride
Em
I can tell you ain't as wise,
C
D
the hustler is global, you're local
Bm
And only thing you're doublin'
Em
is bothers, I told you
C
The soldier is sick and the
blow that I'm spittin'
D
Bm
HD vision is written,
your flow need prescriptions
Em
Listen, I'm a pro,
C
that's destined to blow
D
Batter up your dough,
Bm
I'm nicer than whoever you know
Em
Writer, I gotta make it,
C
this shit is in my blood
D
Encompass concages,
Bm
metal fingers set a judge
Plotting on his paper,
C
trying to kill him with the buzz
D
So I'm riding on his haters,
Bm
so I'm setting up the bomb
Em
C
Cause I gotta make it, make it
D
The shit is in my blood, blood
The coppers cutting cages,
Bm
middle fingers to the judge
Fuck em!
Em
Plotting on his paper,
C
trying to kill him with the buzz
D
So I'm riding on his haters,
Bm
so I'm setting up the bomb
D
I see you really came to kill niggas
on this one right here
Bm
When these niggas gonna learn?
Em
When they gon' see,
C
D
they can't fuck with my n***a
Bm
The writer of writers,
Em
J .R. motherfuckin' writer
C
Yeah, n***a, Dipset
D
D
You heard the man,
Bm
Em
three albums lined up
C
D
Now n****s better catch up
Em
¿Qué te pareció la canción?
AfinadorE A D G B E
AcordesEm C D Bm
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