Driving Through The Ghetto

E B F#m A
E B F#m A

[Verse 1]
            E                  
When you're driving through the 
 B
ghetto
        F#m          C#m
In your hillbilly truck
       E                  B
'Cause you made two wrong turns
          F#m7               A
And suddenly you're outta luck
        E                   B
And you look up in the projects
        F#m                 C#m
And you start to smell that weed
          E                   B
Lock your doors, turn the windows up
      F#m7                 A
Pray for the light to go green

[Chorus]

                  E     B
And you better be packing
        F#m       C#m
That ole 9 double M
    E               B
Rolling through Atlanta
          F#m7                    A
With that scared-ass white boy grin
            E                   F#m
And you're comin' back from hunting
         F#m7                   C#m
But you shot through all your clips
     E             B
You call the cops but they just 
laugh
     F#m              A
Said we ain't comin' in
C#m
If you get a flat
                 B        A  B
You better drive on the rim
E                 B        F#m7   A
And you better be packing
E                 B       F#m7   A
Oh you better be packing

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[Verse 2]
     E.             B
And when you take a road trip
      F#m.              C#m
After dark and you pull off
    E.                B
The only place that's open
      F#m7.           A
Is a run down quickie mart
        E.             B
And you want that Copenhagen
        F#m7         C#m
But you have to go inside
        E.                  B
There's meth-heads drinkin' red bull
      F#m7.            A
Underneath a Bud Light sign


Chorus]

                  E     B
And you better be packing
        F#m       C#m
That ole 9 double M
    E               B
Rolling through Atlanta
          F#m7                    A
With that scared-ass white boy grin
            E                   F#m
And you're comin' back from hunting
         F#m7                   C#m
But you shot through all your clips
     E             B
You call the cops but they just 
laugh
     F#m              A
Said we ain't comin' in
C#m
If you get a flat
                 B        A  B
You better drive on the rim
E                 B        F#m7  
And you better be packing         
 A
And you better be packing
E                 B       F#m7   A


[Verse 3]
       C#m
And we ain't in Kansas anymore
      B
Hell we're in south A
      A
Where camo pants and spit cups mean
    B
I'm in a rival gang

[Chorus]

                  E     B
And you better be packing
        F#m       C#m
That ole 9 double M
    E               B
Rolling through Miami
          F#m7                    A
With that scared-ass white boy grin
            E                   F#m
And you're comin' back from Fishing
         F#m7            C#m
But you didn’t pack no clips
     E             B
You call the cops but they just 
laugh
     F#m              A
Said we no inglés my friend
C#m
If you get a flat
                 B        A  B
You better drive on that rim
E                 B        F#m7   A
And you better be packing
E                 B       F#m7   A
Oh you better be packing

[Otro]
            E                  
So don’t be driving through the 
 B
ghetto
        F#m
In your hillbilly truck