キー: G# minor•
Verse 1
G#m
B
This Aint Body For Yourself
G#m
B
This Ain't Body For Yourself
Ain't Nobody Gonna Help
Ain't Nobody Gonna Care
B
G#m
See Niggas At The Finish Line
and gattin' meat
Lifestyle of a artist,
but I smoke like a athlete
Venereal track meet,
Olympic runnertime
And the winter crime is common,
and recessions only mine
If I could hold my own,
what's your problem, son?
Get you a block working,
how a gunner stack up to
the problem come?
Goldfish don't last, only the sharks,
you can swim in the boat
Or get your ass torn apart,
2G into the flowers in the casket
The button up shirt, the shovel and dirt
And my niggas mad shit,
with the llama in traffic
Osama the bastard,
flush him right out his dark hole
Embalm him with the plastic,
I'm in and out the store dip
Waitin' on my chick to get paid
for my divorce split
So she can buy me more shit,
ready for war shit
Stop a bullet wardrobe, the way we on it
It can go down in the ward shows, yeah
B
G#m
B
Yeah, I see you niggas
B
G#m
We all greedy, you can't get a bit of shine
Bitch won't be hearin' ya
When I'm a clarinet
Ride through your area, pecan interior
Arm of the stereo, EQ to stereo
These niggas is ants,
and I'm a armadillo, so
Don't compare me to them
Them niggas pillow soft, broke
Don't even know where
the chinchilla toss
You got to hit me before you hit the boss
I'll ride through your hood
and floss with the ceiling off
I'm swervin', these rap niggas perpin'
Rich in they video and
fucked up in person
They talk sideways and them
K's get to squirtin'
Hurtin', soul searchin', closed curtain
Yeah, I'm lean curvin',
and I ball like Burton Magic with the ratchet,
I can cause something tragic
In the dark ass club,
we're broad day in traffic
Southside nigga
from the womb to the test
ain't nobody gon' care
B
G#m
you get body down here, yeah
B
G#m
I see you niggas at the finish line,
B
G#m
you can't get a bit of shine
and a nigga die
cause niggas speak to us
Washed up ass niggas gon'
scrape your rust
Dying filthy is a fate for us
Half getting hit, half paper lost
It's a regular day for us
Ain't no need for the watch,
watch your own back
My buddy got one for six,
I'll let you hold that
Shady and you know that
Your best bet's not to show your lady
where your dough at
Just show that feet on your dough mat,
OLAT
Lord, send me a sign
When I fall, pick up a clip
of the envious mind
The fight be my Benz
and Bentley is mine
Playin' dollar, baby, ballin'
Put your pills in the boy,
cause Lloyd got him crazy
Sour, hazy, baby of the 80s,
ladies go wherever money go
Fuck you think I'm gunnin' for?
Rile for my stomach low,
everybody wanna blow
Tall black homolo, bitch,
niggas come and go
B
G#m
You get body down here, yeah
B
G#m
I see you niggas at the finish line
We all greedy,
B
G#m
you can't get a bit of time
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