Susi: C minor
Intro 1
F
Am
F
Am
Verse 1
life could be super short
Ever since they busted
out the super sport
Brevity, levity, better I could never be
Young for a nigga born in the late 70s
loves me in spite
All the crazy shit I be saying
when we fight
Shot a kite till my nigga locked up, now
Ree's home
Makin' music for the kids,
bitch, we grown
Am
Put your phone down, look me in the eye
Or you could talk that shit to another guy
I swear to
God I will kick you in the butt and fly
And jump up and down on your
skull till you fuckin' die
F
Y probably wanna dance, so ignore me
That club life ain't never been for me
You basic bitches just bore me
If I gotta buy you a drink,
you can't afford me
F
No ski mask, that's the hood way
Am
F
Lil' kids wishin' that they
Lookin' for a hook or somethin'
Jay -Z would
I got two shots left in my 22 two -step
Two shots left in my 22 two -step
Two shots left in my 22 two -step
Two shots left in my 22 two -step
Deuce deuce in my tennis shoe
Hood nigga brought a burner
to the interview
Might catch a beef on the bus home
Tell them bang bang bullies get the fuck on
F
Hit my zone with a brand new playlist
Walked right past my ex, didn't say shit
Then I changed my mind like, bitch,
tell your new boyfriend he can't fake this
Am
Spent my last check on some new kicks,
the rest at the movies on my new chick
I got fired on some bullshit,
F
Am
F
snitch fuck boy that I never should've fooled with
And I ain't never wrote a resume,
but I had my cousin make me one yesterday
I need more hours and some better pay,
Am
F
back when I was hustlin' that's somethin' I would never say
F
Am
No ski mask, that's the hood way
F
Am
F
Lil' kids wishin' that
Lookin' for a hooker, somethin'
Jay -Z would
F
Am
I got two shots left in my 22, two -step
Two shots left in my 22, two -step
Two shots left in my 22, two -step
Two shots left in my 22, two -step
Ten toes down, 1979
Southern
California dummy,
reppin' heavy with mine
These motherfuckin' actors
are not onto a factor
F
Killer
Reese, runner, is a cold black bastard
No master, no father, I raised me crazy
A n***a clean it up when
I had a couple babies
But maybe, just maybe,
you get to obey me
Am
Fresh out the county, feelin' crazy
No meds in eight months,
feelin' tunk, don't play me
I used to be a mess, my n***a
Only thing could kill me was stress,
my n***a
F
Had to get acid to rest, my n***a I just did a couple years,
none left, my n***a
I can't do another stretch, my nigga,
so it's either shut it down or it's death, my nigga
Am
F
Am
F
Gunshots on a good day, no ski mask,
Am
F
that's the hood way
Am
Lil' kids wishin' that they could play,
F
lookin' for a hook or somethin'
F
Am
I got two shots left in my 22 -2 step
Two shots left in my 22 -2 step
Am
Two shots left in my 22 -2 step
Two shots left in my 22 -2 step
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TunerE A D G B E
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