HOTBOII – 9/11 First Day Out Piano & Guitar Chords

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This single was released on 12 September 2024. The vocals are by Hotboii, the music is produced by E-Trou, and the lyrics are written by Hotboii , E-Trou.
This song is originally in the key of G Minor. You can change it to any key you want, using the Transpose option. The average tempo is 80 BPM. These chords are simple and easy to play on the guitar, ukulele or piano.
Vocals: Hotboii ,
Producer: E-Trou,
Writer: Hotboii , E-Trou,

 
Original Key: G Minor
Time Signature: 4/4
Tempo: 80
Suggested Strumming: DU,DU,DU,DU
c h o r d  z o n e . o r g
 [INTRO]

  Gm
 . 
 Gm
 God, I feel like a million dollars
                    Eb 
 I can rap in this shit
  Eb 
 Turn me up, Ray
          F
 Ayy, no cap (Hey, what's good, Trou?)
 Gm 
 In the headphones, turn me up
    Eb 
 Turn me up in the headphones

 I got her head gone
     F
 Chopper, Kut The Fan On, yeah
 
 www.chordzone.org

 [CHORUS]
   Gm
 Look, brand new Kut The Fan On chain (Yeah), 
   Gm
 this bitch cost two hundred K (Two hundred K)
  Gm
 How you flex a hundred bands? You place a order at the bank
   Eb 
 D.A. tryna legislate, I'm still screamin', "Fuck the state"
  Eb                                    F
 Don't ask me is I'm happy I'm home, stupid, what you think?

 Gm 
 Uh, and this money, put my blues on, drippy
 Gm
 Uh, they could lock me up for sure, but can't kill me
  Eb 
 Industry miss me, favorite rappеr snitchin'
  Eb                                    F 
 Runnin' to the booth 'cause his lips sing, alright
 
 [VERSE ONE]
  Gm
 They thought I would nеver jump, I showed 'em I could double Dutch
   Gm 
 I'ma fuck her over every time, she got a bubble butt
  Eb 
 Ayy, she go French tip, I tip her with her toes out
  Eb                                     F 
 Ayy, let's get it crackin', my B.M., I got a throw somethin', uh

 Gm
 Too clumsy, I be one without a drop, uh
 Gm 
 Hellcats in the graveyard, wake up all the opps
       Eb 
 Ayy, told you 'bout my life, uh, how I made it out
  Eb                                               F               Gm
 Ayy, this the life of Hot, just stay real, but still got niggas locked up

  Gm
 Inmates, they better hear my voice (Better hear my voice)
  Gm
 Told my son, "I ever go this long without you, it's by force"
        Eb 
 Nigga, pain in my eyes, I never shed tears of joy
                                      F 
 Nigga, gang hear my cry they'll be loadin' up for war

 www.chordzone.org

 [CHORUS]
        Gm 
 Look, brand new Kut The Fan On chain (Yeah), 
  Gm
 this bitch cost two hundred K (Two hundred K)
  Gm
 How you flex a hundred bands? You place a order at the bank
    Eb
 D.A. tryna legislate, I'm still screamin', "Fuck the state"
 Eb                                       F 
 Don't ask me is I'm happy I'm home, stupid, what you think?
  
  Gm
 Uh, and this money, put my blues on, drippy
 Gm 
 Uh, they could lock me up for sure, but can't kill me
  Eb 
 Industry miss me, favorite rapper snitchin'
  Eb                                    F 
 Runnin' to the booth 'cause his lips sing, alright
 
 [VERSE TWO]
   Gm
 Jail talk, Devil want my soul, nigga, Hell talk
   Gm
 Hell talk, shorted all the bros, oh, hell nah
  Eb 
 Twenty three and one, you get an hour out that cell, dog
  Eb                                      F 
 Uh, feds watchin', they just waitin' on me to mail y'all

 Gm
 Out the bank, that cake be comin' crispy like it's funnel, uh (Funnel)
  Gm
 My neck be so icy, I could light up me a tunnel, uh (Tunnel)
   Eb 
 Fell asleep in bed with seven bitches, on my momma
                                           F
 Sippin' codeine on a P.J., hoppin' off in my pajamas, ayy, uh

 Gm
 And ain't no more blues, Chicken Souse junk food
  Gm 
 Still same, bump too, look what I come home to
 Eb 
 Ayy, uh, this the life that I belong to
                                                 F 
 I'm hopin' that you come with me, I don't wanna have to coach you
 
 [CHORUS]
        Gm 
 Look, brand new Kut The Fan On chain (Yeah), 
  Gm
 this bitch cost two hundred K (Two hundred K)
  Gm
 How you flex a hundred bands? You place a order at the bank
 Eb 
 D.A. tryna legislate, I'm still screamin', "Fuck the state"
   Eb                                     F 
 Don't ask me is I'm happy I'm home, stupid, what you think?
 Gm
 Uh, and this money, put my blues on, drippy
  Gm
 Uh, they could lock me up for sure, but can't kill me
  Eb 
 Industry miss me, favorite rapper snitchin'
  F 
 Runnin' to the booth 'cause his lips sing, alright

 [OUTRO]
  Gm 
 Look, ayy

 'Round 'em back then, now the two tattled in

 Shit crazy, ooh

 Look at how—

 Look at how they comin' for real, how they all be ready

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