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Autobiographical easy guitar chords by Black Sheep
N/A•
Guitar
Tuning
E A D G B E
Capo
Fret 4
Capo
Transpose
0
Capo
D
Em
Bm
E
G
D
Em
Bm
E
G
Verse 1
It's
the
brown
child,
better
version
of
the story
Sees
Conji, a sister,
mother
played
by Tori
In
Astoria,
kid
named Tiki
took
the cake
The
greens
and the
steak
and the potatoes
and
the plate
Never
a dummy,
rejections
are funny
First
years of my
life
I thought that
food
stamps
were money
So
by ten
I was
the mess,
got
a men
and then
I had
friend
So
now I'm
snatching
pocket
books
with Sean
Wilkinson
?Get that
money,
lil
nigga' that's
what they
told
me
I never
sweated
props
cause like
my
pops
they couldn't
hold
me
Until
he found
shorty's
got
it going
on,
rolling
on
Who told?
Damn,
bendecion..
The Bland
man,
and my pop
don't
give
a
damn
The
day
I played with
matches,
took
the stove
to my
hand
Hot
temperature!
He told
me
the
player
s' version
The ego
in submersion
for
the
end
of week
ex
cursion
Until
I'm back,
back
on
the scene
Like
a
ball
on the
green,
giving
strokes
with
my
team
And
despite
the commentary
pop
told
me,
I'm lowly
And moms
change-
bank
can
't hold
me,
so
She
don't
scold
me, she
just
grabs
the belt
Knuckle
the
buckle,
tells
me all
about
the
pain
she felt
At the
precinct
when
a pre-
teen
was
spotted
at the
scene
Came
up
with
the green,
not
a
cop
could interve
ne
Verse 2
[Mother
]
Listen here, you
little motherfucker
You
ain't
going to fuck
with me
Got me
coming to
this damn
pre
cinct
Dammit,
I'm
a kick
your
motherfucking
ass
Shit!
You
ain't going to
drive
me crazy
Verse 3
Now, happens
Tori
met
Tom
not too
long
ago
He was
a nigga,,
yo,
he said
he had
the flow
though
He
loved
a bro,
I know
I didn't
see
you grow
To
a TV
show
cause
the nigga
said
we all
could go
So
I'm up
and out of
the ghetto,
son
of a gold
miner
City-
slicking
Carolinian
standing
out
like Ming
china
A golden
bull
at heart
though
I moved
around
The
balls
bounced
to the
bottom,
settled
at
a small
town
?Hey,
boy!
What's
your
name?!' First
day,
first
fight
I'm out of
New York
and, boy,
it don't sit
right
if you're
white
Light
were my
steps
from
there
Did my
dirt
on
the
low,
a Southern
town
nightmare
Cause the
next
year it was
me
and Ef
on
the furlough
We
were the
only
Queens
kids
but
there were
other
boroughs
With
Rockwell,
D- Ski,
Ron
Duke
and
Freddie
New
York
was represented
like
we danced
for Rock
Steady
Stan
had tables
and
mics, every
brother
nice
Not
only
could we
rip
and rhyme
but
backspin and slice
With
Paris
and Foxy
and Christina
P's
bust
You know
them loud,
raunchy, trouble-
making
niggas?
That
was us
A
menace
yet
still
I played
tennis,
ain't that
cruddy
Advanced
with
the
Reeboks, they
called
them ?cut
buddies'
I hung
with one,
only
one
younger
brother
Shorty
Doo- Wop
could cut
and scratch
up
any
other
Bigger
than
his size,
was barely
five
feet
In
?83 broke beat
s
that today
rock street
s
With
no
one to
grade
it, still
never
de
bated
Some
saw
and
hated
but they
never
contem
plated
It was the
wild
child
with foul
styles,
pal
but not foul
A dis
was never
okay
unless
it
came
before corral
Pals
of mine,
peoples
though were
down
I
graduate
next week
and, yo, next
week
I'm NY
bound
Seven
days
from that
one
I'm leaving
love
that weighs
a ton
I'm going
to miss
you niggas,
yo,
that rapping
shit
was crazy
fun
But
I'm leaving
on
the next
bus
I've got
your numbers
and we'll
keep
in touch,
I trust
Gliding,
riding
back
to my domain
For
love
and money,
fuck
fame,
my
life
will never
be
the same
As
the next
man's
words,
can
you dig
it?
I say
I got a scheme,
a-
yo, I
gots
you figured
Verse 4
[Corner]
Yo, wassup, wassup. Is
money
out
here?
Yo,
I just got
a call from
that nigga
Tiki
Remember that
nigga Tiki?
He
on his
way from
down South
Verse 5
My real pops
was
a pusher,
when we
left
he had
a section
So
I keep
it in the
family,
or
at least
I make connection
With
the prime
figures
for
affiliated
support
In my
purchase
of
cargo
in the
import
and export
Flushing,
Queens: back when
junkies
was
the fiends
My
childhood
friends
held buddha,
had babies
in dreams
I
took pops
off my
shit
list
cause
he had
the fitness
To
help
Tiki
get
his, what
the fuck,
pop?
Jehovah
witness
What
the
fuck,
pop?
What's
with
the
fizz-
plop
I'm like,
I
can't
put
him
down
but
the shit
don't
stop
Worked
at
a
law
firm,
for
lack
of
fear
I
wrote
a
resume,
spending
words
like
a
millionaire
>From there
to
the
bank,
see
the
bank's
down
the
block
So
now
I'm
close
to home,
I
clock,
I
plot
With
Popote, he's
my
cousin
and
a
wily
one
Though
the
kid
was
younger,
quick
like
thunder
With
the
heart
to
put
you under
Props
even,
the
shit
can't
fail
I saw
Reese,
bagged
with Pote
and made
a sale
[Co- Dee]
Go
Verse 6
ahead,
get that
money
Get that
money!
I ain't
going to let
nobody
see
you
I got
your back,
baby,
I got
your back
You
want
five?
You only
got two
Verse 7
On
one late
night,
I had
made
a nice
amount
More
than two
weeks
pay,
playing
with
the new
accounts
So
I rose
like
a petal,
fuck
pops,
I run with
thugs
Levis,
Tims,
hoodie,
coat,
skully, drugs
Fatigues
before
they were the
fashion
Pockets
with
work
and others
with cash
in
Thought
I was cool
with
tools
and mad
trap
My
pops
was like
?read
this?
but I was
like fuck
that
So
I
jingle-
jangled,
clocked
at every
angle
Tiki's getting
paid
and
his
crew's
star-
spangled
And everyday,
all
day night, yo, whatever
Niggas
on the
strip
in
sub
-
zero
weather
Back
before
the first
gener
ation
of fiends
My
team
was sheer
cream,
keeping
dollar
bills
green
Fashion,
Calvin
cooler,
playing
Rick
the Ruler
And I can't
front
on nobody
cause
I pulled
on
a
woo
lah
Back in
'86 first,
foremost
and
final
Rhyming
on
the corner,
all
I
want
to be's
on vinyl
I bum rush
and boom
bash,
not
even for
merit
Bounce
out to
see Reg
and
Joe down
on
Merrick
But mostly
it's the
strip
that
I played
like
a cock
On
the block
until
the day
I got
knocked
Verse 8
[Police sirens
to fade]
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