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48th Street (Your Old Droog)

Know how to take an intro on a tune It can be a 4-bar Generally it's a 4-bar or 8-bar intro I'm not wimpin', out, you know what I'm about Parking lot pimpin' In a spot where cars enter Gettin' a chick is like gettin' a pick in Guitar Center These cats learned to play guitar to get girls Playin' their little crappy love songs by the fire I learned solos by ear, and never on a Squire We avoid those, cop the black Strat with a Floyd Rose Son burst on the scene and bought a Sunburst Yes yes y'all a Les Paul, Had first dibs on a Gibson Treated like Grandmas at Sam Ash Gettin' fannies, spendin' chips at Manny's When I heard they closed down, I almost shed a tear Couldn't wait to drop some of my first rap cheddar there Woulda waltzed to that bitch like Fred Astaire Used to window shop with lint and a card for Medicare Nil, blanks and my fingers won't vibrate Another note until I got a mill in the bank The last riff that I played was Pink Floyd Money And won't play again until I'm getting Pink Floyd money Comfortably number one in the woodshed, instead of the summer son Only thing getting bent is a guitar string, darling Dry my forehead with a piece of cloth Place my hammer on the passenger seat and pull off They see the transformation Just makes it more complete i got the Brian May pickups, b, whatchu know about that Some get they Turner-All by all types of rings and j clothes I went and got some Ernie Ball strings and a rig for shows Wig-wearin' hoes love my long solos 5-percenters dig those even through a pig nose Amped to stack like Marshall With a good financial plan, i don't want credit that's partial The gods want to know why I won't play it live for them Matter of fact I ain't playin' until my account sees five M's Then we can exchange and share riffs Fake deputies and sheriffs let Droog monetize this rare gift When your old pal is in these big ass palaces racked up Maybe then I'll get my callouses back Then I can afford to waste grip, my G Car lookin' like a space ship, that's a flyin' V With some new tricks that they dyin' to see And never come at Droog, talkin' 'bout buyin' a key No coppin' drugs, my only pickup is a Humbucker Ya dumb dumb sucka muhfucka Why body you with a hollow from the semi When I can beat you with a guitar that's semi-hollow bodied I bodied it on a twelve-string acoustic Loose stickin' out the headstock i don't do the chew stick It's a shame the way you dick ride (I'm out) Catch me on 48th Street, wonderin' when the music died They see the transformation Just makes it more complete One of the other things that, uh, players dont, uh, seem to do strong enough, that i noticed, is the ending to it Kind of jamming the last four bars or last eight bars out