All Star Chuck Taylors Chords by Andre Nickatina

_ [C#] _ _ _ [Fm] _ _ Stop!
Stop!
_ _ Fire!
Fire!
[D] _ _
_ _ _ _ [G] _ _ _ [Em]
Goodie gun drops.
_ _ _ _ _ [D#m] _
[Em] _ _ _ _ _ _ [Am] _ [E] _
[Em] _ _ [F#] One [Em] _ _ [F#] _ _
[Em] _ _ [F#] _ _ [Em] _ _ [Am] _ _
[Em] thing I despise is virgin suicide.
Sheer kindness [F#] and that's a [D#m] ring [Em] cross.
The way I collect is like a bomb threat.
Meaning if you don't have my dough, I'm a bloke for sure.
You better have meat when you hang with this villain.
Meaning that it's [C] cold when I'm chilling.
[Em] Kick the thug, slipped in on a banana filling.
I seen him dead on the [C] floor, but the [Em] blood speeded to the ceiling.
I was like, yo, how that happen?
Chuck Taylor's [F#] down, gotta keep on [Em] rapping.
With one bullet, the right place at the right time.
Turn a hell of a wave into a flat line.
My style don't pump no blood, it pump weed.
And [F#] gasoline, nicotine.
[Em] [F#] Man, ecstasy will twist your [Em] spleen.
Tell that to them freak in them jeans, know what I mean?
It's [F#] kinda ironic.
Make a [Em] phone call for the chronic.
And let my [D#m] tigers hold the gin and tonic.
[Em] Man, I [A] curse so much, it [Em] blasphemy.
But I do what the rap guys ask of me.
Half heart, [F#m] half [Em] hustle.
If you don't have my, [F#] provide a [D#m] plunky or [Em] rim the tussle.
[F#m] No love for a [Em] passionate.
Blow weed in the face of the baddest chick.
Yeah, spin like the [F#] CD.
[Em] I try not to get sleepy.
[F#] Only grind when it's [Em] creepy.
Street guys wanna tea tree.
Pocahontas making money for me, busting in the TV.
My R-star, Chuck Taylor.
Stay laced like the mayor.
Street ball for a player.
Rap the fire rhymes, say you're.
You be like Nicky Mane, no failure.
Real papa, I disappear like Jimmy Hoppa.
Reappear on Easter.
Pants in that heavy star, Frisa.
T-shirts with the vested feature, Myesha.
Check it, this is God.
Con Chuck Taylor down like the Ramadan.
[F#] Check the feeling.
Slip in on up and down [Em] the feeling.
[B] You got a scheme, homie, what [Em] you dealing?
Man, the bad lieutenant with the blunt rap.
Don't dent it.
It's like Popeye when it's finished.
Run around like you're [D#m] playing tennis.
And you [Em] still ain't [F#] finished.
International.
[E] [Em] Keep the party cracking like the fashion show.
The police got it [F#] popping like a fashion show.
[Em] Make a move with me, [F#] Burger Baby, grab the dough.
Like a [Em] linebacker, I got a [Am] gift like a [Em] line jacker.
Put a hole in your six packer.
The Southpaw with the [F#] locked jaw.
In the [G] kitchen with the [Em] rock raw.
[F#] You [D#] remind me of cocaine and doo [Em]-doo sangs.
Man, it's the shitty dope dealer.
[F#] Dirty worm [Am] caterpillar.
[Em] We collide like the sun [F#] and the moon.
And I'm still [D#] tripping [Em] off that room.
With the [D#m] blood on the ceiling.
Check [Em] the feeling.
[D#m] My Chuck Taylors got me creeping and [Em] rap killing.
[F#] Come through and leave the [Em] stun and then shot.
Leave my heart on your block like a lost block.
[D#m] In the bushes of Woods, man, you do [Em] what you could.
[F#] With the little you got, [Em] are you cold or hot?
[F#m] Put it down [Am] with the plot, [Em] got knocked.
Went to jail naked in your shoes and socked.
Left it up to your woman, man, to move your rocks.
And the freak [F#] turned the spot into a hot [Em] box.
Chuck Taylors.
[F#] All stars [E] and hard cards make [Em] my way [F#] to the bar.
[Em] And there you are.
You're feeling.
_ [D#m] _ _
[Em] _ [F#] _ [A] _ [Em] _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ [E] _ [D#m] _ _
[Em] I like the, _ _ _ [Am] _ [Em]
the [F#] sound that you do.
[Em] _ [F#] [G#] Hey, sister!
Give it to [Em] him right [F#] now!
_ [Em] Oh [Am] sweet Son [Em] of God.
_ _ _ _ _ _ [D#m] _ _
[Em] _ [F#] _ _ [Em] _ _ [F#] _ [Am] _ [Em] _