Lucky You [feat. Joyner Lucas] Uke乐谱通过 Eminem

4 在歌曲中使用的和弦: A#m, F#, F, D#m

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A#m A#m F# F# F F             A#m A#m               F# F#
Woah, Joyner, Joyner, yeah, yeah, yeah
F F A#m A#m
Yeah, I done did a lot of things in my day, I admit it
F# F# F F
I don't take back what I say, if I said it then I meant it
A#m A#m
All my life I want a Grammy but I'll prolly never get it
F# F# F F
I ain't never had no trophy or no motherfuckin' ribbon
A#m A#m
Fuck the system, I'm that nigga, bend the law, cut the rules
F# F# F F
I'm about to risk it all, I ain't got too much to lose
A#m A#m
Y'all been eatin' long enough, it's my turn to cut the food
F# F# F F
Pass the plate! Where my drink? This my day, lucky you

Fuck you too, woah!

A#m A#m
Y'all gotta move, Y'all gotta move, Y'all gotta move
F# F# F F
Give me some room, give me some room, give me the juice
A#m A#m
Hop out the coupe, hop out the coupe, how 'bout I shoot?
F# F# F F
Y'all gotta move, Y'all gotta move, give me the juice

A#m A#m
Back on my bullshit, my back to the wall

Turn my back on you all and you're finished
F# F#
Back to these bullets, it's back to the job
F F
Pull my MAC out and all of you runnin'
A#m A#m
Back on my hood shit, it's back to the pushin'

These packs and I'm actually pumpin'
F# F#
Can't fuck with you rappers, you practically suckin'
F F
You mighta went platinum, but that don't mean nothin'
A#m A#m
I'm actually buzzin' this time

Straight out the kitchen, I told them the oven is mine
F# F#
I do not fuck with you guys
F F
If I don't care you just know that you gonna suffer this time
A#m A#m
I ain't no gangster but I got some bangin'

Some chains and some blades in and a couple of knives
F# F#
Choppers and jammies, a partridge, a pear tree
F F
My twelve days of Christmas was nothin' but lies
A#m A#m
Why don't you holla like a sumo (sumo)

They say I talk like a chulo (chulo)
F# F#
I live in Mars, I'm not Bruno
F F
Bitch, I'm a dog, call me Cujo
A#m A#m
You play your cards, I reverse on you all

And I might just drop four like an Uno
F# F# F F
C Cállate boca mejor, maricón, little puto, and all of you culo
A#m A#m
They've invented a level off in the ghetto to ghetto

Lookin' for something that prolly can never find out
F# F#
Shake irrelevant and tell 'em to beef right now
F F
What you would nigga? You really want me tied down
A#m A#m
I've been alone, I never needed nobody

Just only me and my shotty, I'll tell these niggas to lie down
F# F#
Keep all of the money, I never wanted the lifestyle
F F
I just pray to God that my son'll be alright now
A#m A#m
I said ain't no love for the other side

Or anyone who ever want smoke
F# F# F F
When I die I'm goin' out as the underdog who never lost hope
A#m A#m
You in the wrong cab down the wrong path

Nigga wrong way, wrong road

Snakes in the grass tryna slither fast

I just bought a fuckin' lawn mower

A#m A#m F# F# A#m A#m
I have said a lotta things in my day, I admit it
D#m D#m A#m A#m
This is payback in a way, I regret it that I did it
D#m D#m F# F#
I done won a couple Grammys but I sold my soul to get 'em
D#m D#m F# F#
Wasn't in it for the trophies, just the fuckin' recognition

Fuck's the difference?
A#m A#m F F
I'm that cracker, bend the law, fuck the rules

Man I used to risk it all, now I got too much to lose
A#m A#m F F
I been eatin' long enough, man my stomach should be full

I just ate, lick the plate, my buffet, lucky me

Fuck you think? (Woo!)

A#m A#m F# F#
I got a couple of mansions
A#m A#m F# F#
Still, I don't have any manners
A#m A#m
You got a couple of ghostwriters
F# F#
But to these kids, it don't actually matter
A#m A#m
They're askin' me "What the fuck happened to hip-hop?"
F# F#
I said "I don't have any answers"
A#m A#m
'Cause I took an L when I dropped my last album
F# F#
It hurt me like hell but I'm back on these rappers
A#m A#m
And actually coming from humble beginnings
F# F#
I'm somewhat uncomfortable winning
A#m A#m
I wish I could say "What a wonderful feeling!"
F# F#
We're on the upswing like we're punchin' the ceiling
A#m A#m
But nothin' is stealing like anyone has any fuckin' ability
F# F#
To even stick to a subject, it's killin' me,
A#m A#m
the inability to pin humility
F# F# A#m A#m
Hatata batata, why don't we make a bunch of fuckin'

Songs about nothin' and mumble!
F# F#
And fuck it, I'm goin' for the jugular
A#m A#m
Shit is a circus, you clowns that are comin' up
F# F#
Don't give an ounce of a motherfuck
A#m A#m
About the ones that were here before you
F# F#
to make raps, let's recap
A#m A#m
Way back, MC's that recap and tape decks
F# F#
Eight DATs with the G G raps and Kane's hat
A#m A#m F# F# A#m A#m
We need 3 Stacks ASAP and bring lap Masta Ace back
D#m D#m
Because half of these rappers have brain damage
A#m A#m
All the lean rappin', face tats, syruped out like tree sap
F# F#
I don't hate trap, and I don't wanna seem mad
A#m A#m
But in fact with an old-me at the same cat that would take that
D#m D#m
Feedback and aim back, I need that
F F
But I think it's inevitable

That you're a button to press or a lever to pull

They give me the snap though (Lil' bitch)

And if I paid attention I'd probably makin' it big

But you've been takin' the dicks

In the fuckin' back, ho (get it?)
A#m A#m
On the brink, any minute

Got me thinkin' of finishin' everything
F# F#
With acetaminophen then reapin' the benefits
A#m A#m
I'ma sleep at the wheel again
F# F#
As I peak into thinkin' about an evil intent

Of another beat, I'ma kill again
A#m A#m
'Cause even if I gotta end up eatin' a pill again
F# F#
Even ketamine or methamphetamine
A#m A#m
With the Manidon, it better be at least 70 to 300 milligram
F# F#
And I might as well 'cause I'ma end up bein' a villain again
A#m A#m
Levels to this shit I got an elevator
F# F#
You could never say to me I'm not a fuckin' record breaker
A#m A#m
I sound like a broken record every time I break a record
F# F#
Nobody could ever take away the legacy, I made a navigator
A#m A#m F# F#
Motherfucker never got a right to be this way
A#m A#m
I got spite inside my DNA
F# F# A#m A#m
But I work 'til the wheels fall off, I'm workin' tirelessly, ay
F F
It's the moment Y'all been waitin' for

Like California wishin' rain would pour
A#m A#m
And that drought Y'all have been prayin' for
F F
My downfall from the 8 Mile to the Southpaw

Still the same Marshall that outlaw

That they say is a writer might've fell off

But back on that bull like the cowboys

A#m A#m
So y'all gotta move (yeah),

Y'all gotta move (yeah), Y'all gotta move
F# F# F F
Give me some room, give me some room, give me the juice
A#m A#m
Hop out the coupe, hop out the coupe, how 'bout I shoot?
F# F# F F
Y'all gotta move, Y'all gotta move, give me the juice

 

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