Me chords by J.R. Writer

SimplifiedDbm

GuitarPianoUkulele

Verse 1
Dbm 
 (D flat minor) Right now, I'm not even out,
and I'm so dumb.
I leave slaughters,
beat slaughtered, I'm retarded
I swipe a blade across your fleet collar,
fuck with me
I have a buck fifty,
lookin' like three dollars
I've been a crook for G's,
rookie please, look for me
Or give it a rest,
clip through your chest, push your teeth
You workin' for the cops,
remind me of Alicia
Singin', but at the same time,
tryin' to push some keys
Sleepin',
you heard me breezin' in burnin' rooms
And be breezin' with birdies,
we ain't tweakin' as early
Put some heat to your derby,
and have some clowns
from out of town
Draggin' you around like a weekend at Bernie's,
Holla!
Who is Bonafide? Me!
Who flip all the pies? Me!
Who's the grinder you see goin'
in the Overtrials? Me!
Who's the talk of New York
with them hits and them clips?
He let off the fly, soundin' like a 45!
Me! Who was born to fire me?
Who flip on a pile of me?
Who's the grinder you see
goin' the open street?
Who's the door to good New
York when you hit?
Cotton sucker,
steal that orphan flyer,
soundin' like a 45
I'm the sleekest of soldiers,
with some heaters and toasters
I pump weights, you pump weights,
go eat a granola
I squeeze meters,
give leaders the jeepers creepers, man
Fuck if they teachin' you yoga,
just speakin' is sober
Shit, I speed on the motors,
sell keys to the smokers,
chokers, holers
Homie, come meet with a roller,
creep in a rover
And ride around with the top down
like I ain't never heard of
indecent exposure
Sissy, yes, I get it, 50 to your physics
Lay a sheet down, we ain't sittin' at a picnic,
it's ridiculous
Equipped with two scopes, so know what?
I can never miss you like you
with me every minute
Get it? Lay the man flinchin',
spray the man thinkin'
To front in the trunk of J
.R. Van's thinkin'
Wait, did your man mention Flash?
And I could get them chains off you
faster than Abraham Lincoln
Holla! Who is born to fire me?
Who flip all the pies?
Me! Who's the grinder you see
goin' in the overdrive?
Me! Who's the talk of New York
with them hits and them clips?
He let off and fly, soundin' like a .45
Me, who was born to fly
Me, who flip all the pies
Me, who's the grinder you see
goin' in the overdrive
Me, who's the tour of good New York
With them hits and them clips
Dbm 
He let off and fly, soundin' like a  (D flat minor) .45