Chords for Freight Train Tuck
Tempo:
77.925 bpm
Chords used:
E
B
Am
C
Bb
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
[B]
[E] [B]
[E] [B]
[E] [Am]
[C] [E]
Oh, I ain't gone nowhere, nigga.
[Am] [E] I'm Michael Myers, the man of the hour, running in [B] power.
Took a bezel band with the stones on the hour.
[E] Used to push weed, crack, heroin, and [B] powder.
[E] Now I rock clubs for a whole fucking hour.
[E] Big fucking suck, let me [B] hear you say, suck.
Three fucking slabs and a motherfucking truck.
[E] Dallas stand up, so you stand up.
Nigga think he's somewhere else, just want to know.
Here I come strong, and mother suckers [C] clones.
All [E] overseas, repping my hoes.
Think I'm live, watch me, raw smack a [B] doppy.
Real niggas feel me, them pussy niggas knock me.
[E] They don't want problems, cause problems get sloppy.
Had a main girlfriend calling me poppy.
I don't give a damn what they think about [Am] me.
Big fucking tuck from the south side D.
[E] That's all I know, trope, all I [B] blow.
One, two, three, look a doppy through the door.
Kick it [E] teeth like snow, the bitch like gold.
All the bitches know, young nigga got dough.
The whole clique paid, everybody spray.
Half a million dollars worth of cars valet.
Bitches want to dip in them exotic grips.
And the peanut butter jelly and the motherfucking milk.
Nigga don't trip, I make flip a ship.
Got ten stacks just to run it in a sip.
It's all on me, all on me.
This how we do it in the goddamn D.
Boys go for broke, ain't no joke.
Nigga get the trip and I'ma send him to the post.
I rap to my city, come to Wichita, Texas.
My clique's like Al-Qaeda, leave niggas headed.
We don't play out the door, gators in the shore.
Rikers and the Raiders got the dope in the four.
Big, that's for sure, punks out the [B] door.
Ride smoking dro, I don't crack a poco.
I [E] stay stuffing cars, crushing them [B] bars.
Do the Hollywood just to dance with the stars.
The goddamn tough, the Chevy cammed up.
Stopping at the locker room, spinning doors up.
Get like me, real to the T.
Add Harvard pants with a fresh black tee.
I'm thinking about money, I'm thinking about a lot.
A million dollar house on a million dollar lot.
[E] Me and some bitches on a motherfucking yacht.
Me and my partners on that bench taking shots.
Back to the shore, get money [C] more.
My street team campaign like Al Gore.
Pedal to the floor, no handles on the [B] door.
If it ain't a phantom, it's a dead little Zor.
[E] Yeah, we don't get high, we [B] sore.
Got enough juice to cause an all-out war.
[E] [B]
[E] [B]
[E] [Am]
[C] [E]
Oh, I ain't gone nowhere, nigga.
[Am] [E] I'm Michael Myers, the man of the hour, running in [B] power.
Took a bezel band with the stones on the hour.
[E] Used to push weed, crack, heroin, and [B] powder.
[E] Now I rock clubs for a whole fucking hour.
[E] Big fucking suck, let me [B] hear you say, suck.
Three fucking slabs and a motherfucking truck.
[E] Dallas stand up, so you stand up.
Nigga think he's somewhere else, just want to know.
Here I come strong, and mother suckers [C] clones.
All [E] overseas, repping my hoes.
Think I'm live, watch me, raw smack a [B] doppy.
Real niggas feel me, them pussy niggas knock me.
[E] They don't want problems, cause problems get sloppy.
Had a main girlfriend calling me poppy.
I don't give a damn what they think about [Am] me.
Big fucking tuck from the south side D.
[E] That's all I know, trope, all I [B] blow.
One, two, three, look a doppy through the door.
Kick it [E] teeth like snow, the bitch like gold.
All the bitches know, young nigga got dough.
The whole clique paid, everybody spray.
Half a million dollars worth of cars valet.
Bitches want to dip in them exotic grips.
And the peanut butter jelly and the motherfucking milk.
Nigga don't trip, I make flip a ship.
Got ten stacks just to run it in a sip.
It's all on me, all on me.
This how we do it in the goddamn D.
Boys go for broke, ain't no joke.
Nigga get the trip and I'ma send him to the post.
I rap to my city, come to Wichita, Texas.
My clique's like Al-Qaeda, leave niggas headed.
We don't play out the door, gators in the shore.
Rikers and the Raiders got the dope in the four.
Big, that's for sure, punks out the [B] door.
Ride smoking dro, I don't crack a poco.
I [E] stay stuffing cars, crushing them [B] bars.
Do the Hollywood just to dance with the stars.
The goddamn tough, the Chevy cammed up.
Stopping at the locker room, spinning doors up.
Get like me, real to the T.
Add Harvard pants with a fresh black tee.
I'm thinking about money, I'm thinking about a lot.
A million dollar house on a million dollar lot.
[E] Me and some bitches on a motherfucking yacht.
Me and my partners on that bench taking shots.
Back to the shore, get money [C] more.
My street team campaign like Al Gore.
Pedal to the floor, no handles on the [B] door.
If it ain't a phantom, it's a dead little Zor.
[E] Yeah, we don't get high, we [B] sore.
Got enough juice to cause an all-out war.
Key:
E
B
Am
C
Bb
E
B
Am
_ _ _ [B] _ _ _ _ _
[E] _ _ _ [B] _ _ _ _ _
[E] _ _ _ [B] _ _ _ _ _
[E] _ _ _ _ _ [Am] _ _ _
_ _ _ [C] _ _ [E] _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ Oh, I ain't gone nowhere, nigga.
_ _ _ [Am] _ _ [E] I'm Michael Myers, the man of the hour, running in [B] power.
Took a bezel band with the stones on the hour.
[E] Used to push weed, crack, heroin, and [B] powder.
[E] Now I rock clubs for a whole fucking hour.
[E] Big fucking suck, let me [B] hear you say, suck.
Three fucking slabs and a motherfucking truck.
[E] Dallas stand up, so you stand up.
Nigga think he's somewhere else, just want to know.
Here I come strong, and mother suckers [C] clones.
All [E] overseas, repping my hoes.
Think I'm live, watch me, raw smack a [B] doppy.
Real niggas feel me, them pussy niggas knock me.
[E] They don't want problems, cause problems get sloppy.
Had a main girlfriend calling me poppy.
I don't give a damn what they think about [Am] me.
Big fucking tuck from the south side D.
[E] That's all I know, trope, all I [B] blow.
One, two, three, look a doppy through the door.
Kick it [E] teeth like snow, the bitch like gold.
All the bitches know, young nigga got dough.
The whole clique paid, everybody spray.
Half a million dollars worth of cars valet.
Bitches want to dip in them exotic grips.
And the peanut butter jelly and the motherfucking milk.
Nigga don't trip, I make flip a ship.
Got ten stacks just to run it in a sip.
It's all on me, all on me.
This how we do it in the goddamn D.
Boys go for broke, ain't no joke.
Nigga get the trip and I'ma send him to the post.
I rap to my city, come to Wichita, Texas.
My clique's like Al-Qaeda, leave niggas headed.
We don't play out the door, gators in the shore.
Rikers and the Raiders got the dope in the four.
Big, that's for sure, punks out the [B] door.
Ride smoking dro, I don't crack a poco.
I [E] stay stuffing cars, crushing them [B] bars.
Do the Hollywood just to dance with the stars.
The goddamn tough, the Chevy cammed up.
Stopping at the locker room, spinning doors up.
Get like me, real to the T.
Add Harvard pants with a fresh black tee.
I'm thinking about money, I'm thinking about a lot.
A million dollar house on a million dollar lot.
[E] Me and some bitches on a motherfucking yacht.
Me and my partners on that bench taking shots.
Back to the shore, get money [C] more.
My street team campaign like Al Gore.
Pedal to the floor, no handles on the [B] door.
If it ain't a phantom, it's a dead little Zor.
[E] Yeah, we don't get high, we [B] sore.
Got enough juice to cause an all-out war.
[E] _ _ _ [B] _ _ _ _ _
[E] _ _ _ [B] _ _ _ _ _
[E] _ _ _ _ _ [Am] _ _ _
_ _ _ [C] _ _ [E] _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ Oh, I ain't gone nowhere, nigga.
_ _ _ [Am] _ _ [E] I'm Michael Myers, the man of the hour, running in [B] power.
Took a bezel band with the stones on the hour.
[E] Used to push weed, crack, heroin, and [B] powder.
[E] Now I rock clubs for a whole fucking hour.
[E] Big fucking suck, let me [B] hear you say, suck.
Three fucking slabs and a motherfucking truck.
[E] Dallas stand up, so you stand up.
Nigga think he's somewhere else, just want to know.
Here I come strong, and mother suckers [C] clones.
All [E] overseas, repping my hoes.
Think I'm live, watch me, raw smack a [B] doppy.
Real niggas feel me, them pussy niggas knock me.
[E] They don't want problems, cause problems get sloppy.
Had a main girlfriend calling me poppy.
I don't give a damn what they think about [Am] me.
Big fucking tuck from the south side D.
[E] That's all I know, trope, all I [B] blow.
One, two, three, look a doppy through the door.
Kick it [E] teeth like snow, the bitch like gold.
All the bitches know, young nigga got dough.
The whole clique paid, everybody spray.
Half a million dollars worth of cars valet.
Bitches want to dip in them exotic grips.
And the peanut butter jelly and the motherfucking milk.
Nigga don't trip, I make flip a ship.
Got ten stacks just to run it in a sip.
It's all on me, all on me.
This how we do it in the goddamn D.
Boys go for broke, ain't no joke.
Nigga get the trip and I'ma send him to the post.
I rap to my city, come to Wichita, Texas.
My clique's like Al-Qaeda, leave niggas headed.
We don't play out the door, gators in the shore.
Rikers and the Raiders got the dope in the four.
Big, that's for sure, punks out the [B] door.
Ride smoking dro, I don't crack a poco.
I [E] stay stuffing cars, crushing them [B] bars.
Do the Hollywood just to dance with the stars.
The goddamn tough, the Chevy cammed up.
Stopping at the locker room, spinning doors up.
Get like me, real to the T.
Add Harvard pants with a fresh black tee.
I'm thinking about money, I'm thinking about a lot.
A million dollar house on a million dollar lot.
[E] Me and some bitches on a motherfucking yacht.
Me and my partners on that bench taking shots.
Back to the shore, get money [C] more.
My street team campaign like Al Gore.
Pedal to the floor, no handles on the [B] door.
If it ain't a phantom, it's a dead little Zor.
[E] Yeah, we don't get high, we [B] sore.
Got enough juice to cause an all-out war.