调:D# minor•
Intro 1
Cb
Verse 1
Cop one for you and your friends
Ebm
Db
Bbm
Ebm
Cb
Ebm
Papers two
Verse 2
Feel like I'm on ice, we just glide
Db
Cb
I get pussy in a pair of off- whites
Know I want it,
you can see it my eyes, surprise
You just realized it
Drive the type of whip your
bitches like to be in
All of my nigga's ridin'
Ebm
Db
Two joints, that's double homicide
tell me why you gettin' high?
We went from coppin'
Verse 3
Ebm
Ridin' with some real niggas,
Money through the roof,
Of all niggas in the game,
Lickin' on me all night,
Got so many cars,
Fuck up out here, bitch,
Suckin' on me good,
Breakfast in the morn',
Try to hit my phone,
Verse 4
I ain't used to get it but I got
You can't tell me shit,
I've been on my shit,
You can't tell me shit,
Verse 5
Anything I want, I pull up in
Ebm
Db
Anything I want, I pull up and stunt
we can't do the front
Ebm
Db
Real niggas pay the papers, a plus
Take them bitches phones, ain't nothing,
we don't love 'em
Verse 6
I ain't used to get it but I got
You can't tell me shit,
I've been on my shit,
I ain't used to get it but I got
You can't tell me shit,
Db
Gb
Cb
tell me nothin'
Verse 7
Cb
Db
Cb
Two joints, that's double homicide
Rolling papers up and gettin' high
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