Biografia:
Clifford Joseph Harris Jr., mais conhecido como T.I., (Atlanta, 25 de Setembro de 1980) é um rapper, ator, compositor e produtor executivo norte-americano.
O rapper fez história na parada de sucessos da Billboard quebrando um recorde, ao subir 70 posições em uma única semana, conquistando a primeira posição da parada Billboard Hot 100, com a música Whatever You Like. Segundo o site da revista inglesa NME, o single conquistou o primeiro lugar por conta de 200 mil downloads realizados da faixa durante uma semana.
Read more on Last.fm
Quatro anos de trabalho duro!Neste mês de maio fizemos quatro anos no ar. Continuamos trabalhando na divulgação deste maravilhoso instrumento, obrigado por participar da nossa história!
[Intro]
F#m Am G#m F#m 3x
Bm
[Verse 1: T.I.]
Yeah
Well
F#m
Attention to my youngins coming up in this shit
Let me tell you what you do, teachers say you ain’t shit
F#m
Hack off in her IG, get up in her email
Find something in it that’ll humble that bitch
F#m
Get a 8 ball better not fumble that bitch
Better double that shit
Make a hundred right back
F#m
It outta be illegal making money like this
If it is that what everyone says you can’t tell
Bm
Yeah
Imma have a thing for the arm and hammer
Bm
Before these niggas was even thinkin’ about Atlanta
F#m
Little Bankhead nigga off Balton Road
With a snubbed nose short like Muggsy Bogues
F#m
Don’t try one can't take 6 of us
Plus you might get shot no fisticuffs (okay)
F#m
King in real life
Shinnin’ til my
Lights cut off and life is fucked off
F#m
Til them and Rick kept me in Miami ducked off
Somewhere on Biscayne
Ride in the Lambo
Bm
Abracadabra magic like we in Orlando
Bm
And where your bitch go
And where her pants go
F#m
Turn that around automatically mando
If her feet fucked up hanging out her sandals
F#m
On that mob shit like Marlon Brando
Smoking weed trappin’ standing under the lamp post
F#m
For real all a nigga ever done
Was come up on a bag turn around and get another one
F#m
Then how I came up on a bunch of money
And a bunch of motherfuckers tryna find a way to get it from me
Bm
Avoid the red tape proceed to rampage
Bm F#m
Now a days these niggas be so goddamn fake
And I can’t stand things that are pretending
F#m
To hear you speak is so condensing
I say fuck that watch with your diamonds in it
F#m
Tryna turn myself into a monument
Stimulate the economy
F#m
Buy a Rolls Royce and hold your horse
Niggas talk loud but got no voice
Bm
Better fall in line and leave no choice
And I ain’t finna play about that
Bm
And that’s really all a nigga really care to say about that
[Verse 2: Rapsody]
F#m Am G#m F#m
Bm
Bust
Dedicated to all the bustas
We just bustin’
TIP
RAP
ATL to Raleigh North Carolina
But I was born and raised in Snowy Hill 252 Green County all day yeah
F#m
Where I’m from some niggas do die
Some women do bust everybody got 5
F#m
I ain’t never done street shit, just too fly
Get down, lay down, boy we’re too high
F#m
Hood divided I seen it live, seen the drugs, seen the love
All of it here for pride
F#m
Use to date a drug dealer in my past life
Drink Boons Farm smoke just to pass nights
Bm
Potential bigger than a monument
Bm
Real nigga, look up to me honestly
F#m
And my old whip, that old shit, the 95
I use to 9 to 5 with back in 99
F#m
I had a real job fool I could legally drive
Return pushin’ a kickass ride
F#m
Bustin’ rhymes, I bust around, bustin’ 9s
Y’all doin’ that y’all is wild
F#m
Tell ya child they ain’t gotta walk or run the mile
We ran the course so y’all can stop
Bm
Tip ‘em back the tip of that I tip ‘em over
Bm
He dead yeah yeah I know it
F#m
Mother fuckas should know I’m Noah
Ha ha big boat bitch uh
Look I could walk on water ah
F#m
I care to say I care bout y’all
Care bout love, care bout God
F#m
Carry the cross don’t get carried away
Over character flaws mother fuckas they don’t care bout us
F#m
Michael Jordan, Michael Jackson, Mike Tyson I punch ‘em out
Mother fucka what happened here
Bm
TIP, RAP kill it
Bm F#m
Mother fucka back how the fuck you feelin’ ah
F#m Am G#m F#m 3x
Bm
[Verse 1: T.I.]
Yeah
Well
F#m
Attention to my youngins coming up in this shit
Let me tell you what you do, teachers say you ain’t shit
F#m
Hack off in her IG, get up in her email
Find something in it that’ll humble that bitch
F#m
Get a 8 ball better not fumble that bitch
Better double that shit
Make a hundred right back
F#m
It outta be illegal making money like this
If it is that what everyone says you can’t tell
Bm
Yeah
Imma have a thing for the arm and hammer
Bm
Before these niggas was even thinkin’ about Atlanta
F#m
Little Bankhead nigga off Balton Road
With a snubbed nose short like Muggsy Bogues
F#m
Don’t try one can't take 6 of us
Plus you might get shot no fisticuffs (okay)
F#m
King in real life
Shinnin’ til my
Lights cut off and life is fucked off
F#m
Til them and Rick kept me in Miami ducked off
Somewhere on Biscayne
Ride in the Lambo
Bm
Abracadabra magic like we in Orlando
Bm
And where your bitch go
And where her pants go
F#m
Turn that around automatically mando
If her feet fucked up hanging out her sandals
F#m
On that mob shit like Marlon Brando
Smoking weed trappin’ standing under the lamp post
F#m
For real all a nigga ever done
Was come up on a bag turn around and get another one
F#m
Then how I came up on a bunch of money
And a bunch of motherfuckers tryna find a way to get it from me
Bm
Avoid the red tape proceed to rampage
Bm F#m
Now a days these niggas be so goddamn fake
And I can’t stand things that are pretending
F#m
To hear you speak is so condensing
I say fuck that watch with your diamonds in it
F#m
Tryna turn myself into a monument
Stimulate the economy
F#m
Buy a Rolls Royce and hold your horse
Niggas talk loud but got no voice
Bm
Better fall in line and leave no choice
And I ain’t finna play about that
Bm
And that’s really all a nigga really care to say about that
[Verse 2: Rapsody]
F#m Am G#m F#m
Bm
Bust
Dedicated to all the bustas
We just bustin’
TIP
RAP
ATL to Raleigh North Carolina
But I was born and raised in Snowy Hill 252 Green County all day yeah
F#m
Where I’m from some niggas do die
Some women do bust everybody got 5
F#m
I ain’t never done street shit, just too fly
Get down, lay down, boy we’re too high
F#m
Hood divided I seen it live, seen the drugs, seen the love
All of it here for pride
F#m
Use to date a drug dealer in my past life
Drink Boons Farm smoke just to pass nights
Bm
Potential bigger than a monument
Bm
Real nigga, look up to me honestly
F#m
And my old whip, that old shit, the 95
I use to 9 to 5 with back in 99
F#m
I had a real job fool I could legally drive
Return pushin’ a kickass ride
F#m
Bustin’ rhymes, I bust around, bustin’ 9s
Y’all doin’ that y’all is wild
F#m
Tell ya child they ain’t gotta walk or run the mile
We ran the course so y’all can stop
Bm
Tip ‘em back the tip of that I tip ‘em over
Bm
He dead yeah yeah I know it
F#m
Mother fuckas should know I’m Noah
Ha ha big boat bitch uh
Look I could walk on water ah
F#m
I care to say I care bout y’all
Care bout love, care bout God
F#m
Carry the cross don’t get carried away
Over character flaws mother fuckas they don’t care bout us
F#m
Michael Jordan, Michael Jackson, Mike Tyson I punch ‘em out
Mother fucka what happened here
Bm
TIP, RAP kill it
Bm F#m
Mother fucka back how the fuck you feelin’ ah
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