The What

  C                      Am
I used to get feels on a bitch
             F                     
Now I throw shields on the dick to 
G                     C
stop me from that HIV shit
                     Am
And niggas know they soft like a 
Twinkie filling
F                    G
Playing the villain, prepare for 
this rap killing
C                    Am          
Biggie Smalls is the illest, your
          F
 style is played out
                      G
Like Arnold on that, "What you 
talking 'bout, Willis?"
C             Am
The thrill is gone, the Black Frank 
White
   F                        G
Is here to excite and throw dick to 
dykes
C                             Am 
Bitches I like 'em brainless, 
                       F
guns I like 'em stainless steel
                   G
I want the fucking Fortune like the 
Wheel
  C                    Am
I squeeze gats 'til my clips is 
empty
      F                           
Don't tempt me, you don't want to 
G
fuck with the M-E...


[Verse 2]

...T-H-O-D Man, here I am
        C                         
I'll be damned if this ain't some 
Am
shit
                          F     
Come to spread the butter lyrics 
             G
over hominy grit
         C                   Am   
It's the low killer death trap, 
                  F
yes I'm a jet-black ninja
                 G
Coming where you rest at, surrender
C                               
Step inside the ring, you's the 
Am
number one contender
F                            G
Looking cold-booty like your pussy 
in December
C                     Am
Nigga, stop bitching, button up your
 lip and
     F                           G
From Method all you getting is a can
 of ass-whipping
C                    Am          
Hey, I'll be kicking you son, you
               F
 doing all the yapping
          G
Acting as if it can't happen
     C                      Am
Your frontin' got me mad enough to 
touch something
             F                 
Yo, I'm from Shaolin Island and 
 G
ain't afraid to bust something
Continúa después del anuncio
   C                        Am
So what you want nigga? You won't 
nigga
  F                     G
I got a 6-shooter and a horse named 
Trigger
     C        Am
It's real, '94 rugged-raw
F                 G
Kickin' down your goddamn door

And it goes a little something like 
this


[Chorus 1]
C                     Am
Fuck the world, don't ask me for 
shit
F                            G
Everything you get you gotta work 
hard for it
C                            Am
(Honeys shake your hips) You don't 
stop
     F                           G
(And niggas pack the clips) Keep on,
 bitch


[Verse 3]
      C                     Am
Verse two, coming with that Olde E 
brew
       F                           
Meth-tical, putting niggas back in 
G
ICU
    C                           
I'm lifted, troop, you can bring 
      Am
your wack-ass crew
            F                      
I got connections, I'll get that 
  G
ass stuck like glue
        C                     Am
Huh, no question, I be coming down 
and shit
          F                        
Yo I gets rugged as a motherfucking
 G
 carpet get
           C                  
And niggas love it, not in the 
 Am                       F
physical form but in the mental
                 G
I spark and they cells get warm
          C                Am
I'm not a gentleman, I'm a Method 
Man
     F                 G
Baby accept it, utmost respect it, 
and
           C                       
(Assume the position) Stop look and
 Am
 listen
               F                   
I spit on your grave then I grab my
         G
 Charles Dickens, bitch


[Verse 4]
              C                    
Welcome to my center, honeys feel 
  Am
it deep in they placenta
F                       G
Cold as the pole in the winter
             C                  
Far from the inventor, but I got 
      Am
this rap shit sewed
            F
And when my MAC unloads
          G
I'm guaranteed another video
C                   Am
Ready to die, why I act that way?
    F                       G
Pop duke left mom duke, the faggot 
took the back way
C                    Am
So instead of making hoes suck my 
dick up
  F                            G  
I used to do stick-ups, 'cause 
                         C
hoes is irritating like the hiccups
           Am
Excuse me, flows just grow through 
me
F                       G
Like trees to branches, cliffs to 
avalanches
C                        Am      
It's the praying mantis, deep 
                   F
like the mind of Farrakhan
                G
A motherfucking rap phenomenon, plus
C                     Am
(I got more Glocks and TECs than 
you)
          F                       
I make it hot, (niggas won't even 
G
stand next to you)
      C                        Am 
Nigga touch me you better bust me 
                   F
three times in the head
                  G
Or motherfucker's dead, you thought 
so


[Chorus]
C                     Am
Fuck the world, don't ask me for 
shit
    F                           
And everything you get you gotta 
 G
work hard for it
 C                           Am
(Honeys shake your hips) You don't 
stop
     F                           G
(And niggas pack the clips) Keep on,
 bitch
C                     Am
Fuck the world, don't ask me for 
shit
F                            G
Everything you get you gotta work 
hard for it
C                            Am
(Honeys shake your hips) You don't 
stop
     F                           G
(And niggas pack the clips) Keep on,
 bitch