48th Street

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