Em _ _ _ _ _ _ _
C#m _ .
_
F# _ _
C#m _ _ _
C _ _ .
_
B _ _
A#m _ _
A _ _ _ .
_ _ _
E _ _ _ _ _ .
F _ _
F# _ _ _ _ _ _ .
Dm _ _
Am _ _ _
Bm I'm living in this time behind
E enemy lines
F# so I
A got mine I hope you got
F#m yourself
Bm you.
from the hood I
E hope you got yourself
D you
F#m won't be hope you got yourself
Bm and when I.
see you I'ma take what I want
F# so you
A try to front hope you got
D yourself you ain't real.
E hope you got yourself
D _ my
Bm first album
G# had no famous guest
E appearances
F#m the outcome I'm crowned.
the best
Bm lyricist many years on this professional
E level
D what would you
F#m question who's better.
the world is still mine
Bm tattoos rare with God's son across
F#m the belly the boss of rap.
you saw me and with thoughts like
Bm that to take it back to Africa I did it
E with Biggie.
D me and two box with soldiers are the same
Bm brother you Lance the huddle your team
C# shook.
I feel the wrath
F#m of this is my football field
Bm throwing passes from a
E shoulder pads of power.
D but the
A QB don't stand
F# for no quarterback
Bm every word is like a
G# E job loss
F#m off and I'm the black.
nurse that came to all y'all then
Bm this put a hood by the corner store
F#m many try many
D come.
at nice if you want to
Bm walk I _
E F# got
A mine I hope you _
Bm from the hood I
E hope you _
A# F#m won't be.
hope you got yourself
Bm and when I see you I'ma take
E what I want
F# so you
A try to front
F#m hope you.
Bm you ain't real hope you got
E yourself
D _
G# yo
Bm I'm the end the aid
D to the
E SIR and
F#m if I wasn't I must.
have been asked about you
Bm know the kid got his tip
E to fix here parted
F#m with a barber's decisiveness.
brave hearted for life
Bm is return of the golden child son
F#m of a blues player so
A who were you.
F#m player y'all waited to
Bm save you that cups
F# of that vodka
D to poppy to stir
Bm well wake up in a hospital.
throw up never remember I do this
E to write your
F#m steps you Judas thought I was gone so when I got.
my
Bm death y'all been all happy
D go lucky bunch of Sam
F#m call me God's son with my pants low
Bm I don't.
go slow put them
E rags up like Pee Dee Pablo
F#m this is not that dope in my nap car
Bm with this nice flow.
look a beat that
D not a soul reppin hit the record store never
Bm let me go get my whole collection yeah.
E F#m I got mine I hope you _
Bm from the hood I hope you
E _
D F#m won't be hope you got yourself
Bm and when I see.
you wanna take
E what I want
F# so you
C#m try to front
F#m hope you _
D ain't real hope you got
E yourself.
D _
Bm it's the return of the Prince the balls this is real
F#m hardcore kid rockin limp biscuits off.
Bm sit Chris get tips riskless
E I floss
D stick shift
F#m look sick up in that box the post
Bm with the top.
cut off rich kids
E going pop
F#m the sauce they don't know about the blocks of more
Bm and everybody wanna.
know where the
F# kid go
D away breast and we
Bm shop at address that no we got dough where does he live.
is he still in
F#m the bridge doesn't really know how ill it is
Bm got all the y'all
E watching my moves my.
walk to my
A# Jew
F#m hop in my poop dodge
Bm interviews like that it's not only my
F#m Jews ice anything.
plenty change look at my tennis shoes the ice that
Bm who am I the back
D twist up launch the Ray.
Ripper automatic leg
Bm put them get a keep it against the witcher
E I
F#m got mine I hope you.
_
Bm _ .
E hope you _
D F#m won't be _
Bm and when I see you I'm gonna take
E what I want
F# so you try to front
F#m hope you.
Bm you ain't real hope you
E _
D _ got
Bm yourself _ I
E _
F#m got mine I hope you.
_
Bm _ _
E _ _
D _
F#m _ _ _ _ _ .