Come Clean Chords by Jeru The Damaja

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_ You're on the front bar, jump up and hit butt, if you're feeling lucky, suck then press your
luck, I snatch fake gangsta MC's and make them faggot flams, yeah now I ain't spray,
my mind spray, malignant myth that a leaf caught the fall, the result, you'll remain
stuffed in a carch, you couldn't come to the jungles of the east, popping that and you
won't survive, get live, catch and wreck, gizzard wing, I don't gang bang, or shoot
out, bang bang, the relentless, where it's the only dope I smoke, I'm a true master,
you can check my credentials, cause I choose to use, my infinite potential, got a freaky
freaky, freaky freaky flow, controls of my life, retail cash flow, like tuba, so deep
that you can scuba, dive by dives, or a den is unknown, like the tubas, I've accumulated
honeys all across the map, cause I rap about some nuts and, bust a tap in your back, in
fact my rap snaps just afro really, I'm the map, so what, need to code a map, my attack
is purely mental and it's nature's not, it's meant to wake you up, out of your brainwashed,
it's stagnant nonsense, for if you're persistent, you'll get your slot box, bust your breast
up on fit, I flip, post it, none of the real niggas skip, you don't know one of Mac, look
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_ _ [G] _ _ [N] _ _ _ _
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_ _ _ _ out the mic, that I keep the dirty, by his hand, that's his verbal weapon, spit, spit,
uh oh, head two, uh oh, head two, uh oh, head two, uh oh, head two, uh uh uh uh, head two,
uh uh uh uh, real, rough, it shine like a gold nugget, every time I pick, up the microphone,
I drug it, unplug it on chunks, with the gangster battle, leave your nines at home, and bring
your skills to the battle, you're rattling on and on, and ain't saying [G] nothing, that's
with web straight from the start.
Bought a tool and didn't know how to use it.
Got lost in [A] Brooklyn, so you [N] had to lose it.
What's for front end?
You got that ass whacked. Whacked. _ _ _ _
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