D-Boyz Got Love For Me
D-Boyz Got Love For Me

D-Boyz Got Love For Me easy guitar chords by Spice 1

N/A•
Guitar
Tuning

E A D G B E

Capo

Fret 2

Capo

Transpose

0

Capo

  • Am

  • C

  • G

  • B

    2

  • Gbm

    2

  • F

  • E

  • Am

  • C

  • G

  • B

    2

  • Gbm

    2

  • F

  • E

    • Verse 1
    (feat. 
    E- 40) (In

    tro: Spice 1) 

    What's wrong 
    nigga? 
    What's 

    wrong 
    huh? 

    You scared 
    nigga? 
    You 

    scared? 

    What, you can't 
    talk 
    with a mother

    fuckin' 
    gun 
    in your 
    mouth 
    nigga? 

    I'm 
    gonna 
    give you 
    a 
    three 
    count 

    I'ma 
    blow your 
    motherfuckin' 
    brains 
    out 

    One, 
    what 
    you think 

    about, what you 
    thinkin'? 

    I'm 
    proud, 
    two 
    (kinda slick 

    motherfucker) 

    (*Gun blast*) 

    Nineteen motherfuckin' 
    Verse 2
    nine- 

    fo' 
    com
    in' 
    at 
    cha 

    Gi- gi- 
    gi- gi- 
    gi- 
    gi- 
    gi- gi- 
    gangsta 

    Spice motherfuckin' 1 

    Verse 3
    (Spice 
    1) 
    I 

    eat 
    they 
    ass 
    up 
    like 
    a 
    Swason with 

    the 
    Thompson 

    fo'- fever, 
    leave 
    a 
    - 
    motherfuckin' crime 

    'fore 
    he take 
    his 
    last 
    breather 

    So 
    come 
    along 
    take 
    a trip 

    to 
    the dirt 
    track 

    Where 
    the 
    young 
    niggas 
    be takin' 
    your 

    car and 
    be peelin' 
    your 
    cap 
    back 

    That's 
    why 
    it's 
    A 
    to 
    the 

    mother
    fuckin' 
    yay 

    keeps 
    a fat 
    gat 
    for 
    the 
    funk 
    in 
    the 
    East 
    Bay 

    mainly 
    off 
    gat, 
    I'm 
    goin' 
    brain 
    dead 
    inside 

    Talkin' 
    to 
    my 
    homies 
    'Scratchy' 

    tellin' me 
    he 
    wanna 
    ride 

    on 
    the 
    nigga 
    that 
    peeled 
    his 
    cap 
    so 

    now 
    I'm 
    on 
    the 
    street
    s 

    With 
    the 
    dead 
    motherfucker 

    in 
    the 
    passenger 
    seat 

    And 
    it's 
    fo' 
    to 
    the 
    motherfuckin' 
    five 

    G- 
    a- 
    gat 
    that 
    ass 
    leave 

    'em 
    dead 
    in 
    the 
    ives 

    Red 
    Rum 
    on 
    the 
    late 
    night, 

    catch 
    my 
    case 
    right 
    at 
    the 
    crack 
    hut 

    Niggas 
    better 
    back 
    up, 

    while 
    I fix 
    my 
    sack 
    up 

    Pistol 
    whip, 
    shit, 
    kick 
    that 
    ass 
    quick 

    Quick 
    to 
    rip 
    shit, 

    cause 
    I'm 
    a 
    Coca 
    Cola 
    Classic 

    O.G. 
    and 
    D- 
    Boyz got 
    love 
    for 
    me, 

    D- 
    Boyz got 
    love 
    for 
    me 

    (*Interlude*) 

    Verse 4
    (E- 40) 
    Da- 
    tha- 

    tha- da- 

    tha- 
    tha- da- 

    tha- tha- 
    da- 
    tha- 
    tha 

    Da- tha- 
    tha- da- 
    tha- tha- da- 

    tha- tha- 
    da- 
    tha- 
    tha 

    Verse 5
    (Spice 1) 

    I'ma chuck 
    a dead 
    body 
    on your 

    motherfuckin' 
    lawn 

    like jump 
    like 
    Red 
    gone, 

    nigga 
    I'll 
    be ready 
    the 
    funk 
    is on 

    So call up 
    the Paramedics and 
    tell 

    'em that you're 
    dy
    in' 
    nigga 

    I 
    roll strapped 
    with 
    no love 

    upon my 
    fuckin' 
    trigger 

    I lets my 
    hair 
    platt, 

    and took his 
    mail stack 

    Now he's 
    a stiff 
    black, 

    cause I was 
    at 
    that 

    I'm dumpin' 
    these 
    niggas 

    in ditches 
    back 
    to back 

    Hangin' 
    they ass from 
    telephone 
    posts 

    to 
    leavin' 
    'em makin' 
    'em 

    bleed 
    without no 
    money 

    Gun 
    me, 
    hoe niggas 
    wanna 
    do that, 

    do 
    that 

    But I go 
    out 
    and get 
    a new gat, 

    new 
    gat 
    and let 
    'em have 
    it 

    Nigga, 
    so 
    D- 
    Boyz got 
    love 
    for me 

    Verse 6
    (E- 40) 
    I got 

    love 
    for 
    D- 
    Boyz, cause 

    D- 
    Boyz got 
    love 
    for me 

    I got 
    love 
    for 
    D- 
    Boyz, cause 

    D- 
    Boyz got 
    love 
    for me 

    Nigga 
    got outta 
    line 
    I had 
    to 
    chop 
    him 

    Reached 
    into my 
    draws 
    and pulled 
    out my 

    strap 
    (pull out your 
    strap) 

    Motherfucker 
    got outta 
    place 

    I had 
    to 
    chop 
    him 

    Reached 
    into my 
    fudadalooms and pulled 

    out my 
    strap 
    (pull out your 
    strap) 

    Nigga 
    got outta 
    place, 

    youse got 
    to pop 
    him 

    Reach 
    up in your 
    draws 
    and pull 
    out your 

    strap 
    (pull out 
    your 
    strap) 

    Rookie 
    get outta 
    line 
    you better 
    ice 
    him 

    Reach 
    into your 
    d- dun- 
    dun- duns 
    and pull 

    out your 
    strap 
    (pull out your 
    strap) 

    Just call 
    me Chef 
    Boyardee- Boy, 

    soda 
    for bakin' 

    Cupcakes 
    and cookies, 

    rappies I'm makin' 
    huh 

    Tall 
    cash, 
    can't 
    let 
    eat up 
    my 
    grass 

    Don't 
    make 
    me have to come 
    back 

    and split 
    your 
    parents 
    house 
    in half 

    with my 
    6RP226- Diana 
    Ross 
    cousin 
    Nina 
    - Mr. Meaner, 

    body 
    bleeder 

    Heartless, 

    empty 
    the cartridge 
    roll 

    Smartless, get out 
    and die so 
    cold 

    Hollow 
    point 
    hot 
    ones 
    dipped 
    in gar
    lic 

    I 
    lives 
    up the 
    bar 
    like 
    an Alcoholic 

    Niggas 
    think that 
    I be bluffin' 
    when I 

    tell 'em 
    I'm a good 
    shot 

    But 
    I'm also 
    into some 
    other things 

    like 
    ice picks 
    and piano 
    strings 

    So 
    bitch, 
    I'm tryin' 
    to get 
    nickerage 

    Open up 
    shop, 
    cotton 
    candy 
    and liquorice, 

    uh 

    (Outro: Spice 
    Verse 7
    1 & E- 40) 


    Shoot 'em up now 


    Blaow! Spiggidy one 
    whippin' 

    up on dat 
    ass 
    for nine- 
    four 

    Da- tha- 
    tha- da- 
    tha- 
    tha- da- 
    tha- tha 

    Shoot 
    'em up now, 
    byd- a- bye- bye 

    Blaow! 
    (Spiggity sp, sp, spiggity sp, sp, 

    spit 
    nigga 
    hahahahaha) 

    They call 
    me 
    Spiggity 

    one, Spig
    gity one 

    Me 
    bust 
    a cap 
    up in your 
    ass with 
    big 
    black gun, 

    byd- a- bye- bye 

    Chill 
    man, 
    me 
    roll 
    down 

    the block 
    with my nigga 

    Byd- a- 
    bye- bye, 

    Spiggidy one 
    whippin' 
    up on dat 
    ass 

    Chill 
    man, 
    livin' 
    in the city 
    is a 

    motherfuckin' 
    task 

    (What's a 
    7- 0- 7 on 
    er... 
    your trunk 

    nigga?) 5- 10 

    (4- 1- 5's?), yeah 
    (That's four- 
    fifteens 

    if 
    y'all bitches 
    didn't 
    know) 

    Yeah bitch, 

    stupid 
    ass 
    hoes 

    (Da- tha- tha, sing 
    it with me, 

    da- 
    tha- 
    tha- da- 
    tha- tha, ah yeah) 

    (*Whistling*) 


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