Thrilla chords by Hell Rell, J.R. Writer
Verse 1
Am
Yo, I hear a lot of niggas
Bbm
talkin' shit out there
and they ain't even tough
Am
I hear what?
I see a lot of niggas
Bbm
walkin' around with chains on
Am
and they ain't even built like that
Bbm
I see these niggas
D
Well here's your last warning,
cocksucker
Bbm
Am
No more talkin'
Bbm
Next time the gloves is
Am
comin' out
C
and the black mask is comin' off
Right! Gunners,
Bbm
I will squeeze ten in your face
Why you hug your boy,
have all your family flyin' in
All because of you,
I had a preacher screamin' out
He was a real good kid
C
until he ran into some gangsters
Bbm
Did some shit he shouldn't have did
And you gotta get searched
if nobody in the crew know you
My nigga need a phone,
slap you for a booze smoker
I been all over the world, I move global
C
Bbm
You so easy to kill, nigga, you too local
And these diamonds on my neck
got his crew mad
If niggas is wavy, fuck it, I'm a do -rag
Never been to Vegas, bettin' big paper
C
Bbm
Semi -automatic handguns
that come with lasers
Use a big trick, don't give a bitch shit
Rather blow my loot on
the 0 -9 coupe
And I'm so not so psyched
I'm on my Mr. Campbell shit,
C
Bbm
so keep the manuscript
Ruger, my shit fully loaded
I'm about to unload it
It's like a bomb jumped on the
scene and exploded
Tick, tick, boom, Mr. Ruger, nigga
C
You don't wanna war with me,
Bbm
I got shoot ers, nigga
I pimp the perp, and by the way,
my niggas lurk
Yeah, I be out of space,
but I reach you earth
They on my back for all that crack
They want my soft lawn,
C
Bbm
they don't want no more soft racks
This is hard cut, harm what?
These niggas couldn't harm us,
arms clutch
Gotta bend them like a bond dutch
I fly to Amsterdam when I wanna spark up
C
How I play the coffee shop,
Bbm
they think I work for Starbucks
I spit the kind of bars up
that give these guys a headache
These guys pathetic,
you'll never be as fly, forget it
Nevermind the relish,
but I get a lot of lettuce
C
Franks in Switzerland,
Bbm
that'll make papaya jealous
I be grindin' fellas,
I don't just be gettin' blunted
These Judith Lieber shades
cost me nearly fifteen hundred
How you niggas want it?
Listen, I'm a fuckin' champ
C
My passport ain't got room
Bbm
for another stamp
Confront the camp,
I'll turn you to a corpse
You're silly if you really think
you're heard of in New York
I'm a willy, papa willy,
while I'm swervin' in a Porsche
C
Only time you ever been around
Bbm
the world was on the court
My shit fully loaded,
I'm about to unload it
It's like a bomb jumped on the
scene and exploded
Boom, Mr. Ruger, nigga
C
You don't wanna war with me,
Bbm
I got shooters, nigga
I pip the perp, and by the way,
my niggas lurk
Yeah, I be out of space,
but I reach the Earth
They on my back for all that crack
They want my sophomore,
C
they don't want no more soft racks
Bbm
When I say short,
short is what you niggas worth
Shit, your worth is almost
shorter than a miniskirt
I squeeze in them Porsche Vs,
I'm that nigga jerk
C
Your cheese like a short
Bbm
sleeve on a midget shirt
Go get some work and get the work,
your shit's the worst
I kill it first, go switch your
verse or get a hearse
I get berserk, I'm a great,
your shit's rehearsed
C
Bbm
You spin dirt, get out my face,
I'll get you hurt
My shit fully loaded,
I'm about to unload it
It's like a bomb jumped on
the scene and exploded
Tick, tick, boom, it's the Ruger, nigga
C
You don't wanna war with me,
Bbm
I got shooters, nigga
I pimp the perp, and by the way,
my niggas lurk
Yeah, I be out of space,
but I reach the earth
They on my back for all that crack
They want my sophomore,
C
Bbm
they don't want no more soft racks
You
C
Thrilla
Hell Rell, J.R. Writer
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