Intro
A#m Gb Fm
[Chorus 1]
A#m
Yeah, I done did a lot of things in my day, I admit it
Gb Fm
I don't take back what I say, if I said it then I meant it
A#m
All my life I want a Grammy, but I'll prolly never get it
Gb Fm
I ain't never had no trophy or no motherfuckin' ribbon (Yah I said it)
A#m
Fuck the system, I'm that nigga, bend the law, cut the rules
Gb Fm
I'm about to risk it all, I ain't got too much to lose
Fm A#m
Y'all been eatin' long enough, it's my turn to cut the food
Gb Fm
Pass the plate! Where my drink? This my day, lucky you
Fm
Fuck you too, woo!
[Chorus 2]
A#m
Y'all gotta move, y'all gotta move, y'all gotta move
Gb Fm
Give me some room, give me some room, give me the juice
A#m
Hop out the coupe, hop out the coupe, hop out and shoot
Gb Fm
Y'all gotta move, y'all gotta move, give me the juice
[Verse 1]
A#m
Back on my bullshit, my back to the wall
A#m
Turn my back on you, all of you finished
Gb
Back to these bullets, it's back to the job
Fm
Pull my MAC out and all of you runnin'
A#m
Back on my hood shit, it's back to the pushin'
A#m
These packs and I'm actually pumpin'
Gb
Can't fuck with you rappers, you practically suckin'
Fm
You mighta went platinum but that don't mean nothin'
A#m
I'm actually buzzin' this time
A#m
Straight out the kitchen, I told 'em the oven is mine
Gb
I do not fuck with you guys
Fm
If I don't kill you, just know you gon' suffer this time
A#m
I ain't no gangster but I got some bangers
A#m
Some chains and some blades and a couple of knives
Gb
Choppers and jammies, a partridge, a pear tree
Fm
My twelve days of Christmas was nothin' but lies (Ayy)
A#m
I run at you hard like a sumo (Sumo)
A#m
They say I talk like a chulo (Chulo)
Gb
I live in Mars, I'm not Bruno (Woo)
Fm
Bitch I'm a dog, call me "Cujo" (Rah)
A#m
You play your cards, I reverse on you all
And I might just draw 4 like a Uno (Bup)
Gb Fm
Callate boca mejor, maricon, little puto, and all of you culo (Joyner)
A#m
They've invented a level up in the ghetto to get old
A#m
Lookin' for somethin' I prolly can never find now
Gb
Shit get relevant 'til the beef die down
Fm
In truth a nigga just really want me tied down
A#m
I've been alone and I never needed nobody
A#m
Just only me and my shotty, I'll tell these niggas to lie down
Gb
Keep all the money, I never wanted the lifestyle
Fm
I just pray to God that my son'll be alright now
A#m
I said ain't no love for the other side
A#m
Or anyone who ever want smoke (Joyner)
Gb Fm
When I die I'm goin' out as a underdog who never lost hope (Yeah)
A#m
You in the wrong cab down the wrong path
Nigga, wrong way, wrong road (Woo, woo)
Gb
Snakes in the grass tryna slither fast
Fm
I just bought a fuckin' lawn mower (Vroom!)
[Chorus 1]
A#m
I done said a lotta things in my day, I admit it
Gb Fm
This is payback in a way, I regret it that I did it
Gb
I done won a couple Grammys, but I sold my soul to get 'em
Fm
Wasn't in it for the trophies, just the fuckin' recognition
Fuck's the difference?
F
I'm that cracker, bend the law, fuck the rules
F
Man I used to risk it all, now I got too much to lose
F
I've been eatin' long enough, man my stomach should be full
F
I just ate, licked the plate, my buffet, lucky me
F
Fuck you think? (Woo!)
[Verse 2]
A#m
I got a couple of mansions
Gb
Still I don't have any manners
A#m
You got a couple of ghost writers
Gb
But to these kids it don't actually matter
A#m
They're askin' me, "What the fuck happened to hip-hop?"
Gb
I said, "I don't have any answers."
A#m
'Cause I took an L when I dropped my last album
Gb
It hurt me like hell but I'm back on these rappers
A#m
And actually comin' from humble beginnings
Gb
I'm somewhat uncomfortable winning
A#m
I wish I could say, "What a wonderful feeling!"
Gb
"We're on the upswing like we're punchin' the ceiling!"
A#m
But nothin' is feeling like anyone has any fuckin' ability
To even stick to a subject, it's killin' me
Gb
The inability to pen humility
Gb
Ha-ta-ta ba-ta-ta, why don't we make a bunch of
A#m
Fuckin' songs about nothin' and mumble 'em?
Gb
Fuck it, I'm goin' for the jugular
A#m
Shit is a circus, you clowns that are comin' up
Gb
Don't give an ounce of a motherfuck
A#m
About the ones that were here before you that made rap
Gb
Let's recap, way back, MC's that wreak havoc on tape decks
Gb
ADAT's, where the G Raps and Kanes at?
A#m
We need 3 Stacks ASAP and bring Masta Ace back
A#m Gb
'Cause half of these rappers have brain damage
Gb
All the lean rappin', face tats, syruped out like tree sap
Gb
I don't hate trap, and I don't wanna seem mad
Gb
But in fact, where the old me at? The same cat
Gb
That would take that feedback and aim back, I need that
F
But I think it's inevitable
F
They know what button to press or what lever to pull
F
To get me to snap though (Lil' bitch)
F
And if I pay it attention I'm probably makin' it bigger
A#m
But you've been takin' ya dicks in the fuckin' back, ho (Get it?)
A#m
On the brink, any minute got me thinkin' of finishin'
A#m
Everything with acetaminophen and reapin' the benefits
A#m
I'm asleep at the wheel again
A#m
As I peak into thinkin' about an evil intent
A#m
Of another beat I'ma kill again
A#m
'Cause even if I gotta end up eatin' a pill again
A#m
Even ketamine or methamphetamine with the minithin
A#m
It better be at least 70 to 300 milligram
A#m
And I might as well 'cause I'ma end up bein' a villain again
A#m
Levels to this shit, I got an elevator
A#m
You could never say to me I'm not a fuckin' record breaker
A#m
I sound like a broken record every time I break a record
A#m
Nobody could ever take away the legacy I made, I never cater
A#m
Motherfucker, now I got a right to be this way
A#m
I got spite inside my DNA
A#m
But I wrote 'til the wheels fall off,
A#m
I'm workin' tirelessly, ayy
F
It's the moment y'all been waitin' for
F
Like California wishin' rain to pour
F
In that drought, y'all been prayin' for
F
My downfall from the 8 Mile to the Southpaw
F
Still the same Marshall, that outlaw
F
That they say as a writer might've fell off
F
I'm back on that bull like the cowboy
[Chorus 3]
A#m
So y'all gotta move (Yeah),
A#m
y'all gotta move (Yeah), y'all gotta move
Gb F
Give me some room, give me some room, give me the juice
A#m
Hop out the coupe, hop out the coupe, hop out and shoot
Gb F
Y'all gotta move, y'all gotta move, give me the juice