调:B minor
Intro 1
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F
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G
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Verse 1
I'ma tell you a story
Used to watch the people
make their own war
from the way he wore his
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you can tell he was sick with it from the feeder
from the knees up
pocket right under the heater
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Dm
Just because the cops would watch him,
Straight plottin',
used to let us when they got him
El Chican, the protector of the vital
The street judge, no trial
street out the mist
something's gotta change
It's time to clean up the lane
It can never be the same,
So we knew without a question,
now leave him guessing
with the black mask
And lick that bottle,
thought you were in the hood,
Cause he run the block too,
What's about that black mask?
to finish up the quest
street of the mist
something's gotta change
no it ain't a game
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