Where the tracks at?
N.C.
I'm 'bout to kill you, yo
Chop, chop, chop down both your knees like some trees while you're screamin' "Lombardi, please!"
-Bardi please, ba-ba-bardi please
pl-pl-pl-please, Lombard, please
-Bardi please, ba-ba-bardi please
Where the tracks at?
Where's my money bro?
In the rocketship, but I'm not
But I'm not
Bu-Bu-But I'm not
But I'm not...
e ----------------------11-15-13--15-18----------
B -9---11--8-------13-------------------16-------
Write the songs, how hard could it be?
Write the music, this shit ain't easy
Write the songs
I gotta write the songs
Can't think of shit, I dunno how to write
I used this joke on the last album, right?
I'm no Shakespeare, no Vonnegut
I don't even know what a sonnet is
Welcome to the slaughterhouse
You can't even hide at your daughter's house
You signed the contract with your blood
They suck the rest if you give 'em a dud
If you don't make him the fuckin' stacks
With sufficient raps, with ten platinum tracks
He's gonna come to your house with a baseball bat
And break both of your motherfuckin' legs in half
So you praise the Lord to forgive your sins
So you praise the Lord to forgive your sins...
e ---------------------------------------------
B ---------------------------------------------
(Come on!)
************************************
h Hammer-on
