Chords for Roc Marciano "Slingers" feat Knowledge The Pirate (Official Music Video)
Tempo:
91.95 bpm
Chords used:
F#m
Bm
B
E
F#
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Jam Along & Learn...
I like what I'm doing right now.
muscle, putting [E] horse to work, long [F#m] sharpen.
Come fuck with me.
Come take a walk on my side, the dark side.
-bys.
ringside.
dream died.
east side.
muscle, putting [E] horse to work, long [F#m] sharpen.
Come fuck with me.
Come take a walk on my side, the dark side.
-bys.
ringside.
dream died.
east side.
100% ➙ 92BPM
F#m
Bm
B
E
F#
F#m
Bm
B
_ _ I like what I'm doing right now.
I enjoy [F#m] collecting protection muscle, putting [E] horse to work, long [F#m] sharpen.
These are a few of my favorite things. _
Come fuck with me.
Shit, pirate, let's shit, yo.
Come take a walk on my side, the dark side.
Where niggas do walk-bys and drive-bys.
On them corners slinging bean pies, no bow ties.
Mayweather fight, sitting ringside.
This is [E] where the killers reside, [F#m] the drug dealers collide, and Martin Luther King's dream died.
Son was 15 [B] and copped a [F#m] green 5.
By 16 moved out the projects to the east side.
Moved to the upper east side and leased the high rise.
Son [F#] was young and fly with mob [Bm] ties.
Uh.
Full of sweat, suit, feline.
Waves spinning like a beehive.
Uh.
Hopped out the X6, jumped in a G5.
The drop off from pies and the [F#m] projects on the west side.
Uh.
Son was a Jesus, knee high.
4'5", stuffed in his Levi's.
My evidence was CSI.
Investigated by homicide.
_ Wanted by the FBI.
And the murder of a CI who never did testify.
So it fucked with their case when they found him slumped in a trunk, shot in the face.
_ [B] Fuckin' [F#m] have some questions for me. _
You know what happens.
[B] _ [F#m] _ _ _ _
Come check this walk down these blocks with coke dope and weed spots.
Guns cocked, [Bm] ready to squeeze hot.
Uh.
D's hopping out yelling free stop.
Gunshots from off the rooftop.
Uh.
Murder plots for that money that's in the shoe box.
You take a walk down these blocks.
I'm not [G#m] a flapper, I'm a slinger.
[F#m] Sapphire on the finger, cribbing Antigua.
Uh.
My trigger man wears Sheetal.
Sicilian, not a square like a square pizza.
My bitch glad I'm a rare creature.
Dippin' police, tear sneaker.
My niggas hold heat like a fever.
Them heads all downhill like a steer.
Line the whips up, talking to Siri in the A-series.
With Katie in her fake titties.
Sipping Remy on the rocks.
[F#] Montclair when the air's [F#m] chilly.
We're playing Willie, got jammed out in Philly.
Split him open like a Philly.
Feel the fury, find you in the trunk of Missouri.
All [Bm] smelly.
Solicitor of flesh, ridiculous sex.
A heavy pistol in the Mitchell and Ness.
Spit the best, be more Twitter-less.
Triple X, two flex.
Off the roof, [F#m] my mama juice head.
[F#m] The goop's rad.
The crew still moves from my tool shed.
Uh.
This is truth, not bullet.
Deuce deuce is in the boot by the lad.
Flop shoehead [E] spread.
[F#m] Lunch wonder bread is under the bed.
Plus a couple in the duffel bag.
Uh.
Take [B] a better look, [F#m] peddling cook.
Feen shooting heroin in the foot.
Still play it by the book.
Great tops bottled up.
The hood swallows up.
What the fuck?
Fuck.
_ Not in.
Fuck out.
_ _ Fuck up. _ _
_ [Bm] _ Shit's all about it in there. _
You miss out here, nigga.
All you niggas know how to do is hustle, nigga.
Niggas ain't take no fucking cops for [F#m] cronies.
Come take a walk down these blocks.
We coke-dope in weed spots.
Guns cocked, ready to [Bm] squeeze hot.
Uh.
D's hopping out yelling freestyle.
Gunshots from off the rooftop.
Uh.
Murder plots for that money that's in the shoebox.
Come take a walk down [F#m] these blocks. _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ [N] _
I enjoy [F#m] collecting protection muscle, putting [E] horse to work, long [F#m] sharpen.
These are a few of my favorite things. _
Come fuck with me.
Shit, pirate, let's shit, yo.
Come take a walk on my side, the dark side.
Where niggas do walk-bys and drive-bys.
On them corners slinging bean pies, no bow ties.
Mayweather fight, sitting ringside.
This is [E] where the killers reside, [F#m] the drug dealers collide, and Martin Luther King's dream died.
Son was 15 [B] and copped a [F#m] green 5.
By 16 moved out the projects to the east side.
Moved to the upper east side and leased the high rise.
Son [F#] was young and fly with mob [Bm] ties.
Uh.
Full of sweat, suit, feline.
Waves spinning like a beehive.
Uh.
Hopped out the X6, jumped in a G5.
The drop off from pies and the [F#m] projects on the west side.
Uh.
Son was a Jesus, knee high.
4'5", stuffed in his Levi's.
My evidence was CSI.
Investigated by homicide.
_ Wanted by the FBI.
And the murder of a CI who never did testify.
So it fucked with their case when they found him slumped in a trunk, shot in the face.
_ [B] Fuckin' [F#m] have some questions for me. _
You know what happens.
[B] _ [F#m] _ _ _ _
Come check this walk down these blocks with coke dope and weed spots.
Guns cocked, [Bm] ready to squeeze hot.
Uh.
D's hopping out yelling free stop.
Gunshots from off the rooftop.
Uh.
Murder plots for that money that's in the shoe box.
You take a walk down these blocks.
I'm not [G#m] a flapper, I'm a slinger.
[F#m] Sapphire on the finger, cribbing Antigua.
Uh.
My trigger man wears Sheetal.
Sicilian, not a square like a square pizza.
My bitch glad I'm a rare creature.
Dippin' police, tear sneaker.
My niggas hold heat like a fever.
Them heads all downhill like a steer.
Line the whips up, talking to Siri in the A-series.
With Katie in her fake titties.
Sipping Remy on the rocks.
[F#] Montclair when the air's [F#m] chilly.
We're playing Willie, got jammed out in Philly.
Split him open like a Philly.
Feel the fury, find you in the trunk of Missouri.
All [Bm] smelly.
Solicitor of flesh, ridiculous sex.
A heavy pistol in the Mitchell and Ness.
Spit the best, be more Twitter-less.
Triple X, two flex.
Off the roof, [F#m] my mama juice head.
[F#m] The goop's rad.
The crew still moves from my tool shed.
Uh.
This is truth, not bullet.
Deuce deuce is in the boot by the lad.
Flop shoehead [E] spread.
[F#m] Lunch wonder bread is under the bed.
Plus a couple in the duffel bag.
Uh.
Take [B] a better look, [F#m] peddling cook.
Feen shooting heroin in the foot.
Still play it by the book.
Great tops bottled up.
The hood swallows up.
What the fuck?
Fuck.
_ Not in.
Fuck out.
_ _ Fuck up. _ _
_ [Bm] _ Shit's all about it in there. _
You miss out here, nigga.
All you niggas know how to do is hustle, nigga.
Niggas ain't take no fucking cops for [F#m] cronies.
Come take a walk down these blocks.
We coke-dope in weed spots.
Guns cocked, ready to [Bm] squeeze hot.
Uh.
D's hopping out yelling freestyle.
Gunshots from off the rooftop.
Uh.
Murder plots for that money that's in the shoebox.
Come take a walk down [F#m] these blocks. _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ [N] _