调:B minor
Verse 1
Turn me up a little bit, Bryn.
C
C#m
Yeah, mic check, one -two, one -two.
Dm
Am
C
Uh, uh, uh, yeah, yeah, yeah.
you recognized in time.
I train till I'm in pain,
I exercise my mind.
in 8 ounce white gloves and
leave with red ones
Mood swing on the beat
soon as Preem prepares one
Back you off me like a boxer,
nigga I overuse the drum
They call me Travis Barker
with the chopper
he probably rollin' over in his grave
If niggas poisonin' this name,
then misfortunes are the fortune
and the fame
This where your heart at, bitch
Am
C
C#m
You don't know this, damn I'm great
I don't like no fake niggas
This where your heart at, bitch
So my flow is my whole confession
I rhyme like applying cold compression
G#m
Am
C
From the thorn where it's yelling at you
Set me up, I know you thought about it
That means I gotta wet you up
and I ain't talking with no water bottle
C
your mouthpiece
Fuck your talent, I'm never going down
I'm a stand up guy,
yes I'm up for the challenge
You've been iced out by the nicest one
What you know about that,
I know all about that
Me and Tip feel the same, seeing
Tips fill the brain
F
C#m
You stand on me, I'ma flip you, pit bull
Put your hands on me, I'ma sick you
Damn, I'm great
This, this, this where your heart at,
Dm
bitch
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和弦Am C#m C Dm E...
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