Chords for Gangstagrass - Long Hard Times to Come (Live 11/3/18 @ Hill Country Barbecue NYC)

Oh,
I don't [Em] care.
_ [E] _ _ _
_ [Em] Sing along if you know this one.
I don't care. _ _
_ On this night of the road,
trying to make it home, you ain't about my love for Christoph.
Who am I, sir?
[E] I'm fighting for my soul, God, to make [B] you whole.
You want to hold [Em] off, hold back, let go [E] of heart.
On this night of the road,
trying to make [A] it home, you ain't about my love for Christoph.
Who [Em] am I, sir?
Treating you all the wrong,
and [E] time's too good.
Check it.
[Em] When it's the 18, 19,
15, 14, son of Britt Green.
From Fort Knox to Fort Green,
the voice knocks like force beams at Ben-14.
Let all my rival singles to enter your team.
Like a game seven loss,
set it off, whatever the [A] cost.
So Randy, to dominate the [Em] field, better than most.
Instead of the flaws, I'm about to flow.
[E] Insurmountable skills,
still I count the toes.
I make it bounce and roll, [Em] rock and skate.
[E] While your brain tries to contemplate the theories that I populate.
Cats over profits ain't for a lack of [B] skills.
With trails of stacks of bills and [B] cats and [E] grills.
I don't have men that have got low hits and [A] wills.
But I could drown the world with the way my wisdom spills.
[Em] Me and Mike's go together like bits and drills.
[E] And I serve like a Caesar for kicks and thrills.
[Em] Come on!
On this lonely road,
trying to make it home,
you ain't about my love for Christoph.
Who am I, sir?
Fighting for my soul, God, to make [B] me whole.
Whatever [Em] I'm called, I come to call.
On this lonely road,
trying to make [A] it home,
you ain't about my love for [E] Christoph.
Who am I, sir?
_ Fighting for my soul, God, to make me whole.
They say that you ain't the highest of a holder.
[Em] Bluffing with your hands when your game is mediocre.
I'm walking with my gifts, taking steps.
Sketching with my [B] diagrama.
Funky as a floater.
Let me fix this [E] somehow.
Pump your brain, sketch your worry, not your [A] rotors.
Look at them as I sit,
got your daylight focus.
Sipping on the aroma, chilling with me loca.
Schooling motherfuckers, and they handing out the quota.
Like a ticker, he your bitch and hit it with his sofa.
What's off in the rhythm, you already know, bruh.
Riding like a hemi when I'm revving up the [B] motor.
Hard rock, keep it stony like a boulder.
Black and old gold, make you feel a little [A] colder.
Peaches, butter, fries, I'm a certified holder.
Get yourself together, got the hell of your [E] composer.
Chuffing up your eyes, don't be making it [Em] blue.
On this lonely road,
trying to make it home,
you ain't about my love for Christoph.
Who am I, sir?
Fighting for my soul, God, to make me whole.
Fighting for my soul, God, to make me whole.
What is it all for?
It's a war.
This lonely road, trying to [A] make it home.
You ain't about his love for [Em] Christoph.
Who am I, sir?
I'm a certified [E] holder. _ _
_ [Em] _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ [G] _ _ _ [B] _ _ [F#] _
_ [E] _ _ _ _ [A] _ _ [G] _
_ _ [F#] _ _ _ [E] _ _ _
_ _ [E] _ _ [Bm] _ _ _ [B] _
_ [Em] _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ [A] _ _ _
_ _ [Em] _ _ _ _ [E] _ _
_ _ _ [Em] _ _ _ _ _
_ _ [Em] _ _ _ [F#] _ _ _
[E] _ _ _ [E] _ _ [A] _ _ _
_ [Em] _ _ _ _ [E] _ _ _
_ On this [B] lonely road, trying to make it home.
You ain't about my love for Christoph.
Who am I, sir?
Fighting for my soul, God, to make me whole.
Fighting [Em] for my soul, God, to make me whole.
On this lonely road, trying [A] to make it home.
You ain't about my love for Christoph.
Who am I, sir?
I'm [E] a certified holder.
Fighting for my soul, God, to make me whole. _
_ _ _ _ _ [Em] _ _ [N] _