Chords for King Critical - Why Is Everything Chrome? (Lyrics) | lean wit it rock wit it

Why is everything chrome?
_ Man, this beat got me feeling like the French I was in the city
_ Lean, sweat, rock with it, lean, sweat, rock with it, lean, sweat, rock with it
Everything is home in the future _
I get too many, I get and go
I'm fuckin' your bitch, got dick in the throat
Nigga, lean, just [C#] pull up a four
Run to your [C] squat, take me to your door
Hit em high, hit em low, low
_ Swoat, swoat, swoat
It's critical nigga
Let me quit playing and get on this beat
I don't want to hear when you talking to me
Street stabber, the drip ain't free
Down in the bitch, ain't cheap
Sub now, don't hit for weeks
Up now, got cell on my weed
I got the keys to the streets
I'm spinning, nigga, bring the meat
Diamond gates, quit looking at me
Nigga be famed when they beefing with me
You got guns, we got cannons
Hit em with drums, call em the cannon
Nigga be grooving, nigga be moving
Call em my shooters, they come and do it
Young niggas shooting, nigga, young niggas [C#] shoot
Come to my city, [C] wanna see em again
Nigga, I'm finna keep [A] drinking to end
Mix with that Xan, you [C] know the rest of them
Smoking yo man, got parts in yo head
Got niggas that work for me, still from the hood
But nobody know, she got the racks, get down on the low
I'm smoking good, I got a fucking deal
Get up to [C#] your draw, get on your knees
[C] I'm on that picture, I'm extra
Throw up the C's, I'm extra
Crip, she don't want me to leave, she extra
Sprite codeine, I be extra
I get to the money and get it, bro
Grab the bands and trip out the store
My door real hot when it get out the store
Bitch dog playing, I hear that go
Nigga, thought he was hard, send shots to his throat
Swoat, swoat, swoat, swoat, swoat, swoat
Swoat, swoat, swoat, swoat, swoat, swoat, swoat
It's critical, nigga
Me and my fags, they mess together
Them gay little mothers put dick in her belly
I need the rich like my other side
You don't pay me outside, this nigga be hot
We gon' throw him, we shoot for a hobby
You a middle man, you can quit lying
I got good aim, we shoot for a line
You got a little punch, you got A inside
Look at the road, that shit be shining
_ Check out the food, that shit be riding
Get to the money, I get it and go, go
Swoat, swoat, swoat, swoat, swoat _
[A#] _ _ [C] _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _