キー: D major
Verse 1
F#m
G
F#m
G
F#m
G
F#m
G
F#m
So
fruitful,
so Google, so global
For some total of two moguls,
a few moguls
G
F#m
Set my game up insane with the vocals
G
F#m
Set my lane up and fly past locals
Like I'm sliding on a oval, sunset opal
Purple, full circle,
F#m
G
Hell's angel, understar spangle
Me on angle
Then I'm back into the building
Ailing like I'm falling all
over the ceiling
Been through the wheeling
and dealing
the healing
Now it's appearing, appealing, apparent
Brooklyn the beacon I'm weaving
I'm leaving this planet
Shake with the damage
A couple bitches, a couple cameras
Until I vanish
We aimless,
my game is so stainless
Metaphors yet through mics
became famous
Won't change us,
insane in the membrane sense
Ghosts, Raekwon,
Jews built for Cuban linksin'
Pyrex pots, rocks bubblin', oversinksin'
Fear pumpin' all in your
system until it sinksin'
Plans on the floor won't lead me into extinction,
yeah
Through the hate I stick shift, baby
I need my medicine to heal
this sickness, mystic
The spotlight hits them,
the drop like listing them
G
F#m
Hot like pistons inside of a 7 series
Front line moving the troops, it's military
Never scared, spectacular in stereo
Raw material, pee back to carry on
Safe bet from St. Betts to Lava Ground
Only takes but one match to
burn a house
Bring down the heat on the snakes
and smoke em out
G
F#m
If you about patterns and lyrics
then bring em out
G
F#m
I sing about those without
winning a drought
And I don't need rings and
things to have clout
But when in doubt,
G
F#m
please believe we mash out
Shhh, whoo, I'm here digital
Shhh, whoo, I'm here digital
Ice ice, baby, I did the ride so chilly
G
F#m
Non sequitur, spilling my drinks in Mali
F#m
F#
F#m
Mr. Lebandi, me with the butter knife,
y 'all feel me?
Move it, Fred Astaire on my step
G
F#m
Coconut oil expert, my wet works
Some four scrolls, put holes in people before
people put in the hole with action -packed rap
Professionnel careful to collect shells
Like the back of a tortoise
who taught the hare humiliation
Buried in his hole and refused
to leave
Cause the public,
he couldn't face him
Bumped like bicycles on train tracks
A fantasy is a subject
of a life you let in your mind
Get shot, make a sex tape
and start a clothing line
your style ain't stylish
No doubt we had some years
lost in the mix
But we back after 6
M, P, T, M, C's
Mm, ah, shh, whoo, mm, ah, shh, whoo
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チューナーE A D G B E
コードF#m G F#
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