Chords for Roc Marciano - Move Dope (2017) (Official Audio Video)
Tempo:
73.65 bpm
Chords used:
E
C#m
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
[E] All these rappers out here rapping about the whole thing,
they got that from the [N] pimp.
They got that from the movies, they got that from the pimp.
You know, they're not pimps.
They're not pimps at all.
Rappers are rappers, pimps are pimps.
Dope dealers are dope dealers.
Holes are holes, real ones.
So the real shit is the real [C#m] shit.
It is what it is, fuck what it could have been.
We the bulletin, just some shit the pussy would have seen.
Feel the clips, you push the scent.
Look what I did here with a broken pen.
Might stomp me with a Gucci foot print.
Look on the pimp, the bird boy, I'm good, man.
The handle on the burner, what is it?
Nigga, ain't no what ifs.
It's all real, ain't no other way to put it.
Niggas pussy, they don't wanna see us, man.
Stop the hood up.
Niggas better off sneak this.
These kids might send you home with your sneakers missing.
Listen, be it only your bitch with me, she's pickest.
She's eatin' degrees like Chinese chicken.
Smooth blunts, back on back, boy, punch back.
Your bag made of bunch of cord snap.
Do up the forms with my gorgeous ass.
My smile's porcelain, my hood's portly.
You like them, my shit more lit, it's orange.
I'ma say this once, once only, I'm a control freak.
I got mind control, no freaks.
Two hands, security mag, dope's on.
You just pray we don't cross paths, scorch your ass.
More splats on the dash, you jackass.
I'm just crackin' crabs, thanks to all the crack ass.
Now, niggas might need a headlock.
Spray a yardstick, Hazard.
Shit was made with a paper heart.
The purple haters in the mason jar.
Would you take me for some waiter with a tablecloth?
My sable hanged to the floor, the velour.
I was made by Liz Claiborne.
Let some fake dog get what you came for.
Yeah, yeah, this shit don't own a cell phone.
Yeah, shit look like I got a license to move dope.
I feel like I got a license to move dope.
What?
Feel like I got a license to move dope.
Fuck this shit like niggas on the floor.
Came from a bank, nigga.
Nah, for real nigga, I made shit with these motherfuckers.
What the fuck?
Nigga, I always been on my paper chase, nigga.
Won't play with this shit, nigga.
This shit real, nigga.
Fuck the thought, this says.
Niggas pulled the plan, then started spraying shit.
You don't know who you aiming at, but you a hateful nigga.
Maybe it's the AP that landed on his wrist.
My leather A, B soft as baby shit.
Cop a ranch and a Mercedes and for 80 cents.
Move like a kingpin, but made it six.
The more covered up, the hater me.
You a shotty, make your body stink.
I'm lit.
It's no problem, young Steve's a conrado.
Smoke two fives in the sleeves, prize me.
You ain't wait to see who gaysters made a high from.
With three A's for gangster ID.
You can't hop the naked IC.
Jamaican lady, wine for me.
Two biscuits like it's time for tea.
I'm like iced tea times three.
Drop her some way to die in peace.
Let's set the record straight.
Dead hoes on section A.
I'm a section A, stay in the real estate world.
I'm everything niggas ain't.
they got that from the [N] pimp.
They got that from the movies, they got that from the pimp.
You know, they're not pimps.
They're not pimps at all.
Rappers are rappers, pimps are pimps.
Dope dealers are dope dealers.
Holes are holes, real ones.
So the real shit is the real [C#m] shit.
It is what it is, fuck what it could have been.
We the bulletin, just some shit the pussy would have seen.
Feel the clips, you push the scent.
Look what I did here with a broken pen.
Might stomp me with a Gucci foot print.
Look on the pimp, the bird boy, I'm good, man.
The handle on the burner, what is it?
Nigga, ain't no what ifs.
It's all real, ain't no other way to put it.
Niggas pussy, they don't wanna see us, man.
Stop the hood up.
Niggas better off sneak this.
These kids might send you home with your sneakers missing.
Listen, be it only your bitch with me, she's pickest.
She's eatin' degrees like Chinese chicken.
Smooth blunts, back on back, boy, punch back.
Your bag made of bunch of cord snap.
Do up the forms with my gorgeous ass.
My smile's porcelain, my hood's portly.
You like them, my shit more lit, it's orange.
I'ma say this once, once only, I'm a control freak.
I got mind control, no freaks.
Two hands, security mag, dope's on.
You just pray we don't cross paths, scorch your ass.
More splats on the dash, you jackass.
I'm just crackin' crabs, thanks to all the crack ass.
Now, niggas might need a headlock.
Spray a yardstick, Hazard.
Shit was made with a paper heart.
The purple haters in the mason jar.
Would you take me for some waiter with a tablecloth?
My sable hanged to the floor, the velour.
I was made by Liz Claiborne.
Let some fake dog get what you came for.
Yeah, yeah, this shit don't own a cell phone.
Yeah, shit look like I got a license to move dope.
I feel like I got a license to move dope.
What?
Feel like I got a license to move dope.
Fuck this shit like niggas on the floor.
Came from a bank, nigga.
Nah, for real nigga, I made shit with these motherfuckers.
What the fuck?
Nigga, I always been on my paper chase, nigga.
Won't play with this shit, nigga.
This shit real, nigga.
Fuck the thought, this says.
Niggas pulled the plan, then started spraying shit.
You don't know who you aiming at, but you a hateful nigga.
Maybe it's the AP that landed on his wrist.
My leather A, B soft as baby shit.
Cop a ranch and a Mercedes and for 80 cents.
Move like a kingpin, but made it six.
The more covered up, the hater me.
You a shotty, make your body stink.
I'm lit.
It's no problem, young Steve's a conrado.
Smoke two fives in the sleeves, prize me.
You ain't wait to see who gaysters made a high from.
With three A's for gangster ID.
You can't hop the naked IC.
Jamaican lady, wine for me.
Two biscuits like it's time for tea.
I'm like iced tea times three.
Drop her some way to die in peace.
Let's set the record straight.
Dead hoes on section A.
I'm a section A, stay in the real estate world.
I'm everything niggas ain't.
Key:
E
C#m
E
C#m
E
C#m
E
C#m
[E] All these rappers out here rapping about the whole thing,
they got that from the [N] pimp.
They got that from the movies, they got that from the pimp.
You know, they're not pimps.
They're not pimps at all.
Rappers are rappers, pimps are pimps.
Dope dealers are dope dealers.
Holes are holes, real ones.
So the real shit is the real [C#m] shit. _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _
It is what it is, fuck what it could have been.
We the bulletin, just some shit the pussy would have seen.
Feel the clips, you push the scent.
Look what I did here with a broken pen.
Might stomp me with a Gucci foot print.
Look on the pimp, the bird boy, I'm good, man.
The handle on the burner, what is it?
Nigga, ain't no what ifs.
It's all real, ain't no other way to put it.
Niggas pussy, they don't wanna see us, man.
Stop the hood up.
Niggas better off sneak this.
These kids might send you home with your sneakers missing.
Listen, be it only your bitch with me, she's pickest.
She's eatin' degrees like Chinese chicken.
Smooth blunts, back on back, boy, punch back.
Your bag made of bunch of cord snap.
Do up the forms with my gorgeous ass.
My smile's porcelain, my hood's portly.
You like them, my shit more lit, it's orange.
I'ma say this once, once only, I'm a control freak.
I got mind control, no freaks.
Two hands, security mag, dope's on.
You just pray we don't cross paths, scorch your ass.
More splats on the dash, you jackass.
I'm just crackin' crabs, thanks to all the crack ass.
Now, niggas might need a headlock.
Spray a yardstick, Hazard.
Shit was made with a paper heart.
The purple haters in the mason jar.
Would you take me for some waiter with a tablecloth?
My sable hanged to the floor, the velour.
I was made by Liz Claiborne.
Let some fake dog get what you came for.
Yeah, yeah, this shit don't own a cell phone.
Yeah, shit look like I got a license to move dope.
_ _ _ I feel like I got a license to move dope.
What?
_ _ Feel like I got a license to move dope.
Fuck this shit like niggas on the floor.
Came from a bank, nigga.
Nah, for real nigga, I made shit with these motherfuckers.
What the fuck?
Nigga, I always been on my paper chase, nigga.
Won't play with this shit, nigga.
This shit real, nigga.
Fuck the thought, this says. _
_ Niggas pulled the plan, then started spraying shit.
You don't know who you aiming at, but you a hateful nigga.
Maybe it's the AP that landed on his wrist.
My leather A, B soft as baby shit.
Cop a ranch and a Mercedes and for 80 cents.
Move like a kingpin, but made it six.
The more covered up, the hater me.
You a shotty, make your body stink.
I'm lit.
It's no problem, young Steve's a conrado.
Smoke two fives in the sleeves, prize me.
You ain't wait to see who gaysters made a high from.
With three A's for gangster ID.
You can't hop the naked IC.
Jamaican lady, wine for me.
Two biscuits like it's time for tea.
I'm like iced tea times three.
Drop her some way to die in peace.
Let's set the record straight.
Dead hoes on section A.
I'm a section A, stay in the real estate world.
I'm everything niggas ain't.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
they got that from the [N] pimp.
They got that from the movies, they got that from the pimp.
You know, they're not pimps.
They're not pimps at all.
Rappers are rappers, pimps are pimps.
Dope dealers are dope dealers.
Holes are holes, real ones.
So the real shit is the real [C#m] shit. _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _
It is what it is, fuck what it could have been.
We the bulletin, just some shit the pussy would have seen.
Feel the clips, you push the scent.
Look what I did here with a broken pen.
Might stomp me with a Gucci foot print.
Look on the pimp, the bird boy, I'm good, man.
The handle on the burner, what is it?
Nigga, ain't no what ifs.
It's all real, ain't no other way to put it.
Niggas pussy, they don't wanna see us, man.
Stop the hood up.
Niggas better off sneak this.
These kids might send you home with your sneakers missing.
Listen, be it only your bitch with me, she's pickest.
She's eatin' degrees like Chinese chicken.
Smooth blunts, back on back, boy, punch back.
Your bag made of bunch of cord snap.
Do up the forms with my gorgeous ass.
My smile's porcelain, my hood's portly.
You like them, my shit more lit, it's orange.
I'ma say this once, once only, I'm a control freak.
I got mind control, no freaks.
Two hands, security mag, dope's on.
You just pray we don't cross paths, scorch your ass.
More splats on the dash, you jackass.
I'm just crackin' crabs, thanks to all the crack ass.
Now, niggas might need a headlock.
Spray a yardstick, Hazard.
Shit was made with a paper heart.
The purple haters in the mason jar.
Would you take me for some waiter with a tablecloth?
My sable hanged to the floor, the velour.
I was made by Liz Claiborne.
Let some fake dog get what you came for.
Yeah, yeah, this shit don't own a cell phone.
Yeah, shit look like I got a license to move dope.
_ _ _ I feel like I got a license to move dope.
What?
_ _ Feel like I got a license to move dope.
Fuck this shit like niggas on the floor.
Came from a bank, nigga.
Nah, for real nigga, I made shit with these motherfuckers.
What the fuck?
Nigga, I always been on my paper chase, nigga.
Won't play with this shit, nigga.
This shit real, nigga.
Fuck the thought, this says. _
_ Niggas pulled the plan, then started spraying shit.
You don't know who you aiming at, but you a hateful nigga.
Maybe it's the AP that landed on his wrist.
My leather A, B soft as baby shit.
Cop a ranch and a Mercedes and for 80 cents.
Move like a kingpin, but made it six.
The more covered up, the hater me.
You a shotty, make your body stink.
I'm lit.
It's no problem, young Steve's a conrado.
Smoke two fives in the sleeves, prize me.
You ain't wait to see who gaysters made a high from.
With three A's for gangster ID.
You can't hop the naked IC.
Jamaican lady, wine for me.
Two biscuits like it's time for tea.
I'm like iced tea times three.
Drop her some way to die in peace.
Let's set the record straight.
Dead hoes on section A.
I'm a section A, stay in the real estate world.
I'm everything niggas ain't.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _