调：D minor•
Intro 1
Dm
Am
Dm
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Dm
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Verse 1
Lots of thinking happens in life,
will I win or fail?
Mind of a shooter, CFO also
Ethiopian food flown in, it's unlawful
Money is attractive,
honey dress strapless
Agent Provocateur
underwear: she's classic
Stroll up in the party: titanium
black car
Romanian ladies like Casablanca,
that's ours
You know the real rap gods,
typical trap star turned rap star
These old heads got stories,
the days they was kings
I pray secret indictments don't
20, come home young
Catch 20 years when you 40? Homes,
you're done
What have we become? Rap
stars from trap stars
Black gods to Ansars to
A 360 in the streets real grizzly
Shooters is cold, kid,
the old shit was learning
Student enrollment to focus,
yet hooligans roll with
Toasters to pop your
it's the human show
Ask the F.B.I. agent at his cubicle
Chewing on his pencil eraser with
intents to erase you
It's U.S.A. against the gangsta,
Verse 2
Am
you long enough
Dm
Am
Is that all you brung? It's not love
That's fucked up, but I saved your soul
Roll that up
Verse 3
just to watch the game
Feet on cement,
there ain't a mobster living I could name
Who made it out rich,
in his absence I do not proclaim
Maybe just a typical thug
nigga was my rank
'Cept I had a vision above niggas,
what I think
It's crazy how many brothers
come where I come from
Some made it out big, some dead,
lock- up
Younger generation,
they want to mimic and mock us
Laughing, separating themselves like they not us,
like
"Cops'll look at you like they look
at me? That's preposterous"
made it? I'm humble
One gun, one crazy ass nigga,
that's jungle
Now we having babies,
cause growing up it was just us
No uncles or cousins to fight with us,
we was fucked up
But still it was beautiful, the love is mutual
Even though me and Jung
ain't show up to your funeral
I hold your son hand, tell him he the man,
we love you
Your pops was king,
Inherit your dad's swag,
it's George Jefferson's strut
Stay flyest, they gon' want
to know what in your diet
Don't be surprised if they want
they swear you made them a promise
No matter what they do,
you just stay a man of honor
I'm a street corner nigga,
New York Knicks loyalist
Corona sipper, pass it out,
It ain't the Truman show,
it's the human show
Ask the F.B.I. agent at his cubicle
Chews on his pencil eraser with
intents to erase you
Young brother go and get your paper,
Verse 4
Am
Dm
Am
I've traded fire with you long enough
Am
Dm
Am
That's fucked up,
Outro 1
Dm
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Dm
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F
Am
F
Am
Am
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