Chords for Good Grief

_ Rolling, not a good cereal flakes, Ms.
McDonald.
Wrong one. _
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Good morning, Vietnam!
Ha ha! _ _ _
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_ _ _ _ _ _ [F#] This is one for the gender man with crew of 40.
I'm doing it.
_ [D] My style is to bubble.
Damn it for [F] MCs.
I made them up [G] for puffed-eyed muffins from [D] Minor Key.
Do them in X-Law, 200, you [F] get more.
Rhymes plus [G] X for wide brains, my [D] kind of bar.
MC clouds, I blaze [F] towels.
I crack loose [G] skulls, I live with speed and [D] dust.
Call me a monkey, donkey, my kind of [F] junkie.
I'm stricken T [G]-Rex and my rap just [D] crushing the job.
And bagel, don't have to [F] scramble.
Sparkles with [G] the bubble, the flavor like [D] Snapple.
All your super rebels, heavy metal [F] kettle.
So once I got [G] formed, but I simply came [D] instead of.
Others come like Manitoba, A-Plaza [F] Nova.
Oomph, stop, drop, [G] Patriot, make [D] over.
The music is, is, and it [F] is.
Now check the [G] brothers, each round that [F#] hits the three.
Brothers are made to keep them only the days.
When a rapper blames, good grief. _
_ _ _ _ _ _ [D] In the street, jack the mech, don't wanna [F] know me.
I kick against the [G] floor, I'm tame like Rob [D] Pony.
So only like Tony, I track like Tony [F] Island.
My style man, [G] don't need no man to flash [D] it.
Tap the brakes to get, so I can get low [F] fast.
I get the band-aid, [G] get close, hard knock.
[D] I sport no technique, confidence in the [F] board.
Like that a true block.
[G] Automatic or [D] static, synthetic, plastic.
You stay ready with [F] a casket.
I cross style [G] lines, big ones to [D] test it.
That's crazy mega, now, make your hottie [F] cheer.
I cross empty [G] drawers, scoop oil, then be [D] channeling.
And drop the litter, on the [F] quitter.
The spot for a robber, throw the lock, [D] better.
Well, why?
We can show a block, make you change.
[F] Forged in a sexual intercourse, an [A] empty breeze. _
Brothers are made to keep them only the days.
When the wild bones blaze, good grief, good grief, good grief. _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ [C] _ _ [E] _
_ _ [A] _ _ [B] _ _ [F#] _ _
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_ _ [F] _ _ [G] _ _ [D] _ _
_ _ [F] _ _ [G] _ _ [Dm] _ _
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_ _ [F] _ _ _ [D] What's on your mind now, as I climb out?
[F] Step my step now, but [G] where's your rap now?
[D] I'm right label, like I was Wes Craven.
[F] People under the stairs, feel like raving.
[D] Black debates, when a crook was spoken to.
My [C] shit ain't out to beat, man, you [G] gotta be joking too.
The [D] rhyme enforcer, rhythm courser.
I [F] smack it to a stack, hit a block with a courser.
Don't [D] give me the lip, like he's on that heat truck.
[C] I'm round on bullshit, like my [G] name was Pete Eagle.
You're [D] colored fronts, starts and roses.
I [F] was healed to my dungel, [G] like my name was Gunther Rosas.
[D] I got the sales, you got the sales.
You got to [F] be down, you got to be down.
Love me like Charlie Brown, [D] good grief.
Brothers are made to keep them [F] only the days.
When the [G] wild bones blaze, good [A] grief.
Yeah!
_ Oh!
Ha ha ha! _
[E] Yeah, what do you mean we gotta retaliate?
What [D] do you mean we gotta [F#] retaliate?
We just kicking ass right here.
Back at Studio 4, good grief. _
_ _ _ _ Good grief. _
_ _ When the wild bones blaze, good grief.
They ain't the one and only T-Squad.
Good [C#] grief. _