Key: F# minor
Verse 1
Gm
Dm
I
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A
Dm
was
Gm
Dm
C#
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C#
Dm
Bb
Gm
born in 71' in Kansas City, MO
so the fam was pretty slow
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When it came to rap and
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Gm
R&B and plenty more
F
apostle
Dm
F
Or written in the Bible, then it go
something then I end up doing it anyway
it's the evil music of today
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But, I really fell in love with the sound that was
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F
Gm
coming out form the East Coast
Dm
F
So we got it and twisted it up a bit,
Gm
Bb
Gm
Some say that rap is dead,
but when I get the white, black, and red
Dm
And jump on the tour bus, do fifty eight shows,
then I'm back with a big black sack of bread
A
F
Dm
cause I'm here with a stack of fed
Dm
or whatever
Gm
Dm
the mic in hand with my rap at tire
F
Dm
F
Dm
And I like my fans spending
grands cause we got the fire
A
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I merchandise like 5 G's
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F
every half an hour
Dm
An d you cry like a baby so your mic must be
Interlude 1
your pacifier
Bb
Gm
Dm
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[Chorus: Repeat
Verse 2
them rapper's sounding like
Dm
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Wah wah wah (Crybaby)
Wah wah wah (Whatcha crying
bout?)
Verse 3
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F
Dm
Eliminating player haters with their evil spirits
Verse 4
in the world there's a lot of dough to stack
Dm
F
And the ones that wanna hold us back
to where the shoulders at
off them chips they got
screwed and chopped
But you wanna get off in they pot
Dm
F
'Cause they eighty fours be poking out
Gm
Dm
F
What the hell is you cryin' bout?
but not for reala
Bout the method of making money
Bb
F
By doin' it like I do it do the work
and believe in it
no problem achieving it
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Dm
Got on the mic with the intent to kill
Stronger than ever, and you a gimp for real
Bb
I drink Caribou Lou, and you drink Enfamil, chump
Gm
Interlude 2
Dm
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C#
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Dm
Gm
Verse 5
Gm
[Chorus:]
Bb
Dm
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You
Dm
Bb
Gm
should be clapping
when folk make it up outta the ghetto
Or trailer park,
Dm
it don't matter even if he black or if he guerro
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Dm
you probably in a stiletto
Better yet in a baby shoe,
jealous or maybe you
Sick of me cause I'm making dinero
F
Bb
Gm
And you don't wanna get clapped at
You want a standing
ovation? I thought not!
Dm
You say you better than rappers on radio,
Try to run up on me,
F
'cause a benzo will never be in your car slot
my infra- red beam's right at your soft spot
Gm
Bb
Gm
If you was on TV and balling you
wouldn't groan and trip
and bloodshed on his lip
F
Dm
things on his whip
not stop the hop
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C#
clock stops the shots
F
Dm
And I can quickly bury you in your Osh Kosh B'Gosh,
baby
Outro 1
[Chorus:]
Dm
Bb
Gm
Dm
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Dm
Gm
Dm
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Dm
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Dm
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