In My Blood
In My Blood

In My Blood easy guitar chords by Scarface

N/A•
Guitar
Tuning

E A D G B E

Capo

Fret 2

Capo

Transpose

0

Capo

  • D

  • Eb

    6

  • F

  • Dm

  • Gm

    3

  • C

  • D

  • Eb

    6

  • F

  • Dm

  • Gm

    3

  • C

    • Intro 1


    Verse 1
    You 
    wonder 
    why 

    I 
    hang 
    with 
    these 
    thugs. 

    Whut? 

    I'm 
    from 
    the 
    hood, 

    Nigga. 

    I 
    gives 
    a 
    fuck. 
    (I gives 
    a 
    fuck.) 

    It's in 
    my 
    blood. 

    Since 
    I 
    was 
    little 
    I 
    been 

    hangin' 
    with 
    these 
    niggas. 

    And 
    till 
    I 
    die 
    I 
    gon' 
    remain 

    with 
    these 
    niggas. 

    St. 
    Paul 
    in 

    The 
    M- P- 
    L- 
    S, 
    I 
    hear 
    you 
    callin'. 

    I 
    put it 
    down, 
    yes. 

    Now, 
    Chris 
    Rock, 
    where 
    you 
    at? 

    I 
    heard 
    you 
    say 
    some 
    shit 

    about 
    some 
    blacks, 

    Nigga, 
    this 
    been 
    your 
    ass 
    back. 

    Come 
    see 
    the 
    real 
    deal. 

    Stay 
    in 
    the 
    fields, 
    nigga. 

    These 
    niggas 
    will 
    kill. 

    This 
    ain't 
    no 
    cap- 
    gun 
    shots, 
    nigga. 

    This 
    a 
    glock, 
    pah, pah. 

    It's 
    death 
    on 
    your 
    block, 

    Knock, 
    knock. 

    Whut's 
    up 
    nigga? 

    These 
    sirens 
    start 
    singing. 

    It's 
    me 
    and 
    Yuk 
    with 
    the 

    L- 
    G 
    in the 
    makin'. 

    It's stinkin', 
    freakin', 

    Bowlin' 
    on 
    the weekend. 

    Creepin, 
    seekin' 

    Me, 
    till 
    the 
    currency 

    Gimme 
    stacks 
    up 
    on 
    mo' 
    stacks. 

    I'm 
    double 
    parked 
    for 
    the 
    train. 

    Even 
    your 
    moms 
    know 
    my 
    name. 

    I 
    be the 
    D 
    in
    to 
    the 
    M, 

    and 
    the 
    M 
    into 
    the 
    G. 

    And 
    I 
    bring 
    the 
    B- 
    O- 
    M- 
    B, 

    Nigga. 

    [Chorus] 
    It's in 
    my 
    blood. 
    Verse 2


    Smokin, 
    sweets, 
    drink 
    forties 
    to the 
    suds, 

    And 
    fuckin' 
    wit' 
    these 
    thug
    s, 

    nigga. 

    That's 
    in 
    my 
    blood. 

    You 
    wonder 
    why 
    us 
    nig
    gas 
    be 
    hust
    lers, 

    And 
    out 
    there 
    slingin' 
    drugs, 
    nigga? 

    That's 
    in my 
    blood. 

    That 
    drug 
    money, 

    stuff 
    that 
    shit 
    up 
    under 
    the 
    rug, 

    And 
    make 
    that 
    nigga 
    bug, 
    nigga. 

    It's 
    in my 
    blood. 

    Niggas 
    like 
    me, 

    turn 
    niggas 
    like 
    you 
    into 
    hustlers. 

    Fucking 
    with 
    us, 
    fucking 
    wit 
    us! 

    It's 
    in 
    my 
    vein
    Verse 3
    s, 

    Like 
    a chain- 
    reaction. 

    How 
    it all 
    happened. 

    Paps 
    is slangin' 
    crack 

    in the 
    mid 
    eighties, 

    Back 
    in the 
    day, 

    when 
    shit 
    was 
    crackin'. 

    Niggas 
    pay 
    thirty- 
    eight 
    for 
    a 
    package. 

    Tightly 
    rappin', 

    For 
    shippin' 
    and 
    handelin', taxes 

    was 
    added. 

    That's 
    where 
    the A- 
    rap's 

    headin'. 

    Even when 
    I 
    sleep, 
    they 
    in 
    cavage, 

    Lavage shit. 

    Do 
    automatics, 
    with 
    scopes, 

    under 
    my 
    mattress, 

    With 
    the 
    dope 
    and 
    the 

    drugmoney. 

    Stuffin' that shit 
    up 
    under 

    the 
    rug 
    money. 

    Thug 
    hungry. 

    Takin' 
    drugs 
    only 
    'cause 

    we 
    love 
    money. 

    I'm 
    a nigga, 
    he's 
    a nigga. 

    Would 
    you 
    like 
    to be 
    a 
    nig
    ga 
    too? 

    Makin' 
    big 
    scrilla, like 
    these 
    niggas 
    do. 

    You 
    probably 
    be 
    a 
    drugdeal
    er too. 

    Scan 
    and 
    tuned, 
    into 
    the 
    boys 
    in 
    blue. 

    Listen 
    for 
    clues. 

    In the 
    kitchen, 
    bakin' 
    up 
    Peruvian 
    flake. 

    It 
    takes 
    twenty- 
    eight 
    grams, 

    Multiplied 
    by 
    thirty- 
    six 
    zips 
    to 
    make 

    A 
    triple 
    beam 
    brake, 
    a triple 
    beam 
    shake. 

    A 
    hundred 
    grams 
    on the 
    triple 
    beam 
    flake. 

    Two 
    point 
    two 
    pounds, 
    to be 
    straight. 

    My 
    niggas 
    just 
    flew 
    in from 
    G- 
    A, 

    Ready 
    to 
    buy 
    4 kilos, 

    Then 
    drive 
    slow 
    back to 

    Young
    stown, 
    Ohio. 

    So 
    fuck 
    these 
    rhymes. 

    Let 
    me 
    stick 
    my 
    dick 
    in 
    your 
    ear, 

    And fuck 
    with 
    your mind, 



    Nigga. 

    Verse 4
    [Chorus] 

    Niggas 


    portray 
    themselves 
    as 
    low 
    key. 

    Broken 
    down 
    and fabricated, 

    Easily 
    ejaculated, 
    table 
    with, 

    and halfway 
    faded. 

    Ain't 
    no 
    wars, 
    'cause 
    they made 
    it. 

    That 
    type 
    of bullshit 
    is outdated. 

    But 
    I played 
    it 
    like 
    I 
    laid 
    it. 

    My 
    partners 
    have 
    always 
    said 
    that. 

    It 
    was set 
    me 
    up 

    For 
    life. 

    Money, 
    clothes 
    and 
    hos, 

    but 
    road 
    I 
    chose 
    was 

    Nothin' 
    nice. 

    Niggas 
    know 
    just 
    what 
    it's 

    like 
    to 
    be 
    hustlers. 

    Governors 
    from 
    struggler
    s. 

    Bitches 
    lovin' 
    us. 

    Blindly 
    chasin' 
    that 
    life 
    we 
    lust. 

    I 
    blush. 

    Bottles, 
    havin' 
    thoughts 

    and 
    iring 
    dreams. 

    Goin' 
    down 
    and roll 
    fast. 

    Tryin' 
    to 
    get 
    what 
    my 
    eyes 
    have 
    seen. 

    Fried 
    of 
    me, 
    huh. 

    Nigga 
    for 
    a hand 
    that got 
    me through 

    these 
    eyes right 
    to 
    see. 

    But part 
    not 
    I was 
    blind 
    to the 
    point, 

    Not even 
    I could 
    see, 

    or 
    that I 
    could 
    be, 

    Obviously. 

    I wasn't 
    meant 
    for me 
    this 
    type 
    of trickery. 

    Hit 
    me with the 
    type 
    of mystery. 

    Lay 
    it down 
    like 
    history. 

    With 
    the 
    in
    tent 
    of 
    me, 
    my
    self, 
    an
    d 
    I. 

    Street 
    desire, 
    easily. 

    Piece 
    of 
    mind, 
    I 
    was 
    least 
    to 
    find. 

    Some 
    sassiness. 

    Hossisiless, it gets 
    to shit 
    and praise 

    to the 
    farmer 
    inner
    cist. 

    Nobody 
    was 
    meant 
    for 
    it, 
    it 
    was 
    deadly, 

    An
    d I 
    was 
    discontent 

    With 
    the shit 
    that 
    life 
    once sent. 

    Gov
    ernment 
    depend, 

    now 
    most 
    of my 
    time 
    is 
    spent 

    Escapin' 
    what 
    I 
    love. 




    It's 
    in my 
    blood. 

    Verse 5
    [Chor
    us: x2] 

    Outro 1





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