调：B minor
Verse 1
Dm
Gm
Dm
Gm
Dm
Woo! I woke up this morning knowing I was right. I gotta be right,
ain't nothing right about me.
Can they take the game to
BMall?
That's what they write about me.
Critics try, doubt me.
Try three, strike out me.
Till I took my first swing,
Trapped in the cocaine,
I breathe outly
Steve
Dm
Stout,
B
that cries out me
Dm
Bb
Thought the floor was dry like sand in
South
Beach
pen the sickest problem
the most ill -mannered
the bricks y niggas droppin'
Bb
C
When I speak, I leave them all off -key
many roads to cross
Lord knows I don't wanna
be right
many roads to cross
Lord knows I don't wanna be right
Christ did
Rodney
hit with night snicks
Martin
even he got sniped at
X'd
Bb
Dm
What you expect but excitement when the boss
you stiff as arthritis
Arthorite shit
I said can live righteous,
Christ did, I bled
flow as priceless
Bb
Dm
And I spit hollow heads from gunpowder
thoughts that run through my head
Infrared beams pain dreams
stream that shoot insulin
The flow of lawnmower,
many roads to cross
Lord knows I don't wanna be right
many roads to cross
Many mountains to climb,
many roads to cross
Lord knows I don't wanna be right
Bb
Dm
Bb
Gm
Lord knows I don't wanna be right
Am
Bb
C
C#dim
Dm
Bb
Dm
Bb
you
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