调：Bb minor•
Verse 1
Ghost comin' out of the
Batcave
I get to the last page
Tryna hurry up,
start huckin' funny
It ain't the traces
It was replaced by hate
Where the hoodie and the gloves at?
Fuck his wife, raise a shrug
Rats a slug and a skullcap
Db
Bbm
So move on nigga, I'm too high nigga, fuck with me,
that'll be the day that you die nigga
You heard me,
you gon' die cause I'm too live nigga
I'm too wise nigga
All the hope,
From young lil' shot up,
father to society
Contribute and deliver the scribe,
then life die every grindin'
he spit it to his entirety
Cathy liked that movie
Fort
Apache in the
Bronx
He didn't know this last
All that came to was mine, bottom line
Out of luck, out of buck, out of chuck,
stuck in time
anxiety fiery
Adrenaline, elements, eminent
ready for doom
Can't you see,
Fm
Db
he ain't no one he bout to get freaky
get you smoked like hickory
Better have epiphany, or get broke like a
Tiffany lamp
his soul can drift
Knew he had to hold his eminence,
now
simply stated
They rap therapeutical, it's cool
Try hard, be strong,
inscribed in life's diary
Fm
Db
Bbm
Had dreams and teams to be born
Backed up and tagged up on the wall
Never got all
A's and hustled the small way
Rocking them big rings,
hit school and scram
juvenile tendencies
Bbm
Db
Bbm
Eat, sleep, streets, grind, heat
Seek your shine and how to
Fm
Db
Bbm
You gotta be your way out,
but for what?
The aim is to live comfortable
Gb
Db
Gb
Livin' to full it up, as many formulas,
like a hard test, the process of growin' up
inscribed in life's diary
inscribed in life's diary
Fm
Db
Bbm
D -Block
Gb
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