I Got It Bad, Y´All

I Got It Bad, Y´All easy guitar chords by King Tee

N/A
Guitar
Tuning

E A D G B E

Capo

Fret 1

Capo

Transpose

0

Capo
  • C

  • G

  • A

  • B

    2
  • E

  • Eaug

    5
  • C

  • G

  • A

  • B

    2
  • E

  • Eaug

    5
  • Verse 1
    C
    G

    Intro:
    C

    Ladies and gentleman,
    A
    C

    that nigga king tee and the al- cum- a- holiks

    Verse one: j- ro
    Verse 2
    C

    Pooh- butts play the rear cause

    I'm makin yapes

    The rhymes ain't no thicker

    than a, skittle grapes

    A lot of girls would like to thank me,

    for the hanky- panky

    On the mic I hold a belt,

    now I know no one could spank me

    It took a long time for the people,

    to hear my rhymes

    Seems like I been rappin
    G
    C

    since my birth in '69

    Sorry to keep you waitin,

    I run rhymes like walter payton

    I get a rhyme like spokes on a dayton

    But I won't knock off,

    because I just rock off

    The beats to get funky,

    like when you take your sock off

    To all the white folks I would

    like to say howdy

    And to all my brothers I say

    peace quit actin rowdy

    Wack mcs in ninety- two,
    G
    C

    ew you need to take a rest

    The public don't you aim the best

    you're softer than a hookers chest
    G

    Raps, I make em, snaps, I make em
    C

    For duties movin booties cause

    I shake shake shake em

    And I got rhymes, funky funky rhymes

    E- swift hold the needle down

    with nickels and dimes

    I drink olde english,

    st. ide's and mickeys

    When it's time to roll I throw

    on my black dickeys
    G
    C

    On the mic I get wicked, like wilson pickett

    I get the place jumpin like a cricket

    when I kick shit

    I'm from the west coast but don't

    sleep home- stimpy

    Even if I was a paperboy you
    G
    C

    still couldn't rip me

    I walk up and chalk up pairs

    like the knicks

    I'm all in the mix like snares, and kicks

    When it comes to rhymes I get
    A
    C

    loose like belt buckles

    Those who chose to oppose this nose
    Verse 3

    is felt knuckles
    C
    G

    (where you goin' to?
    A

    ) to the tip
    B

    (and what cha bout
    A

    to do? ) bout to rip
    B

    Some people use the word
    A
    G

    funky too loosely
    C
    G

    And just how many rappers say they
    A

    kick it like bruce lee
    B

    (what's your fa vorite
    A

    brew? ) olde e
    B
    A

    (and what it make you do? ) go pee
    B
    C

    It used to be about rhymes,

    all about rhymes
    B

    Now rappers rearrangin, and
    A

    changin like times
    C

    I got it bad y'all, I got it bad y'all
    B
    C

    When it comes to the pen

    and the pad y'all
    B
    C

    I got it bad y'all, I got it bad y'all
    C
    G

    When it comes to the pen and the pad

    y'all
    B
    G
    B
    C
    A

    B
    G
    A
    Verse 4
    G

    C

    Verse two: e- swift

    Back the fuck up, gimme room to breath

    Not too many niggaz can flip

    the rhymes like these

    I freak the technique as if it was a bitch

    Got more soul than the pit with a fifth

    Pitch the ball, so I can beat it with the bat

    Talk some shit,

    so I can smoke ya with my gat

    I'm feelin kind feelin kinda
    G
    C

    feelin kinda feelin kinda

    Feelin kinda buzzed off

    a sack of chocolate tie

    My my my ho, I like to rip the shows up

    Smack the hoes that walk

    around with they nose up

    Run to the liquor store,

    before they close up

    Buy a few 40s, cause daily I get to' up

    Sit at the crib and write riggy riggy rhymes

    Line after line after liggy liggy line

    Yo I can get funky,

    buy my tape and bump me

    To the break of dawn I hit

    the bud and pass it on

    Hangin at the park,

    shootin craps on the weekend

    My brown bag is wet cause

    my tall can is leakin

    Starin at the cops, beatin up on rodney

    While a pack of o.g.'s steppin

    to me tryin to rob me
    G

    Just because I'm dope,
    C

    niggaz wanna smoke me

    On the mic I get funky while

    you're doin the hokey- pokey

    Dance steps,

    I think that you should leave to paula

    Alkaholiks is the shit,

    e- swift's the smooth bawler

    Is slangin these rhymes like a rock

    Life ain't shit but money and a glock

    Don't punch a clock,

    but I cock a fat knot

    So I can smoke a lot of pot

    that I roll up with tops

    And ya ain't heard shit yet,

    I'm just gettin warm

    Like hot butter on,
    A
    C

    say what? , the popcorn

    I'm headed to the top,

    please give me my props

    My beats are fat as fuck
    G
    C

    so bump my shit in your box

    I love to hit the skinz, but then

    again who doesn't

    I love to hit the herbs cause it leave

    me feelin buzzin

    I dedicate this chumpie to

    the poets who can wreck

    And to all the nottie dreads I gots

    to give them nuff respect
    Verse 5
    B

    (where you goin' to?
    A

    ) to the tip
    C

    (and what cha bout to do?
    A

    ) bout to rip
    B

    Some people use the word
    C

    funky too loosely
    B

    And just how many niggaz say they
    A
    C

    kick it like bruce lee
    B

    (what's your favorite
    A

    brew? ) olde e
    B
    A

    (and what it make you do? ) go pee
    B

    It used to be about rhymes,
    C
    G

    all about rhymes
    B

    Now rappers rearrangin, and
    A
    C

    changin like times

    I got it bad y'all, I got it bad y'all

    When it comes to the pen

    and the pad y'all
    G
    B
    C

    I got it bad y'all, I got it bad y'all
    B

    When it comes to the pen and
    C
    A
    C
    A

    the pad y'all
    C
    Verse
    Verse 6
    C
    E
    B

    three:
    C
    Eaug
    C

    king tee
    Verse 7
    C
    G

    Up jumps the man with the loot
    C
    G

    Rockin like a troop with the

    alkaholik group

    Everything is kosher, got a little taller

    Livin kinda phat cause king

    tee's a bawler
    C

    I just, irritate the wack,

    leave em so confused

    When I'm checkin on the mic

    with the ones and twos

    Sneak you a peek of

    the drunk technique

    Can't stand up, need to take a seat
    C

    Baby baby baby it's the alkaholiks

    But I can freak the mic no matter

    how ya call it

    Metaphors grand,

    and I'm the great man

    Drink a whole fifth yes I can yes I can can

    The girls call me dick- em- down

    Got that title rockin for the crown

    Catch y'all later, around next weekend

    I'm a alkaholik and I'm late for my meeting

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