Skip to content

GuitarTuna

Yousician

Free — Get the full experience in app

Open

Paid In Full chords by Yungmorpheus

  • Am

  • F

  • G

Verse 1
Am
Uh, I ain't wanna
F
go hard on you.
Am
Marcus made me do it.
F
He said your money's long, dawg.
Am
He said we makin' a paper.
F
You got the hardest of the hardest.
Am
You got to do it, man.
You haters made me do this
F
G
Am
I didn't want to have to
You brought me out my cocoon
F
Am
F
I know you tricks is mad
Am
Eyes bloodshot red
F
I know it's hard to believe
Am
Look at them dudes over there
F
Who's money is longer
Am
Army is stronger
F
G
Your gal talking bout us
Am
Cause her dicks is longer
F
Man you used to have the squad
Am
And now we creeping up
F
You trying to figure out
G
Am
But the game got so mixed up,
F
well I told ya, man,
Am
cause I plotted long term
F
G
You parted, got exed, wet,
Am
got caught on sherm
F
Am
I planned my arrival and I kept quiet
F
Now the time has come,
Am
I can no longer be silent
F
We came to mess the industry up,
Am
toss executives up
F
And them sluts, man,
Am
we came to stack nothing but fingies up
F
I've al lowed you to diss,
Am
put your own shit list
F
G
Now pay them fools the number one
Am
Texas label,
F
Am
bitch 2003 until the century turns
F
G
We gonna take over the world,
Am
this thing you must learn
F
And a one, and a two,
Am
and a three, nobody
F
Am
Fuckin' with us in this motherfucker,
nobody
F
Am
Chino, now let me hear ya, homie
F
What in the fuck did you think?
Am
You know you had to hear from me
F
Am
They be like, ooh, that nigga too cocky
F
G
Yeah, yeah, fuck you,
Am
now who the fuck gon' stop me?
G
Am
Think about it, I got Paul, I got Cooper
F
G
I got Biffy, I got Mack, I got Katmai
Am
Nobody niggas with me,
G
I'm a painful soldier
Am
F
Man, nigga, hold up, I'm ridin',
Am
blowin' big with some drink in my soda
F
G
Now, I don't know why they
Am
dialed a 911
F
Am
Probably cause I brought a 9 to a 101
F
in my gundo armor
G
Am
How can I get my point across?
F
Let me see
Am
Nah, fuck it, I'm just aiming point across
F
Who want it with us?
G
Am
Do me a favor, stand up
F
G
But if you got love for us,
Am
nigga, put your hands up
Who run this bitch?
Type 4, motherfucker
F
Who run this bitch?
Am
Type 4, motherfucker
F
Am
Who run this bitch?
Type 4 motherfucker,
F
Am
F
Am
who run this
F
Am
bitch?
F
Am
I ain't no industry dude,
F
I'm an industry student
Am
So at the Source Awards,
F
look for me to be rude
G
Am
And every track I'm on,
F
look for me to be true
G
Am
If you ain't real,
F
look for me to see through you
G
Am
Look for me to fuck the major label,
F
man, man, boo
G
Am
Look for me to not love rap,
F
five years and I'm through
G
Am
I sell you my thoughts, yeah,
F
and still I'm a mystical
Am
Chest out, head high,
I got really big testicles
F
Am
I'm the gutter of the label,
I keep dirt on me, baby
F
Every line, 7 -Eleven,
don't hurry and fade me
Am
Hurt the feelings of my competitor,
F
you better get better, bruh
Am
F
Keep heat, heavy metal stuff,
G
et cetera, et cetera
Am
You cats must be snortin' lines
F
before you write lines
G
Am
Am ped up off a song
that's gon' bring your ca
F
G
Am
reer down
UBFI garbage,
F
what the hell is your motive?
G
Am
You and your clique sound sloppy,
what the hell in got those lines,
plenty hoes, see we countin' times
Plenty dough,
F
G
my accountant tryin' to get paid
Am
So be countin' mine, Rowan twin,
F
count the guns and bullets
G
Am
Carl and Hatter,
they be countin' five
F
But Cat skips numbers
G
Am
cause after the four he
gon' climb to nine
G
And go ride to the forty -five,
Am
hop up to the three -eighty
F
G
So he crazy if he wanna count
Am
numbers with we, baby
F
Am
F
Switch subjects, the chicks love it
G
Am
and plus the little kids love it
My clique is the clique,
F
plus it's no clique that can sit above it
G
Let me spell N -O -P -O -D,
Am
why does it how my clique does it?
F
Like transferring students,
G
Am
we make slow niggas switch subjects
F
You got words towards my label,
Am
I hope it's not your rhyme
F
We some good -smell checkers,
Am
I bet you'll correct your lines
F
G
Proofread it for my crew, see it?
Am
Niggas don't want no flex
F
Slap your man with a sound scan,
Am
and then scream, who's next?
F
Get your mind correct,
G
Am
one of the best cassettes to enter a deck
G
We treat niggas like royalty payments,
Am
yep, put him in check
F
Am
Who run this bitch?
Type 4 motherfucker,
F
Am
F
Am
who run
F
Am
this bitch
F
Am
Type 4 motherfucker,
F
Am
who run this bitch
You
F
Am
N/A
Save song
Speed: 1.0x
RestartPlay SpaceEnable loopDisable audio