xe--------7--------------------------------7-----------------------| B----8--------8---8---8---8---8---8---8-------8---8---8---8---8---| G--9---9--------9-------9-------9---9---9-------9-------9-------9-| D-----------------------------------------------------------------| A-----------------------------------------------------------------| E-----------------------------------------------------------------| They go one for the Prophet, two for Islam; Three for the Khutbah from the Imam... e--------5--------------------------------5-----------------------| B----5--------5---5---5---5---5---5---5-------5---5---5---5---5---| G--7---7--------7-------7-------7---7---7-------7-------7-------7-| D-----------------------------------------------------------------| A-----------------------------------------------------------------| E-----------------------------------------------------------------| Four for the mother that birthed my frame; Five for the father 'cause he taught me game... ========================================================= Here are the rest of the lyrics, sung in the same time with teh guitar as shown above: Been 'round the world, songs are all the same Sometimes when I'm asleep I still call your name Back when I was young I used to dream of fame Now they all point they fingers sayin' who's to blame Mothers put their girls into pigtail curls Fathers teach their sons how to shoot their guns They say, "Boy don't never pocket your emotions Just take it like a man, make your stand" They say, "Sex and violence go hand in hand" For every man blessed there got to be ten damned Expand through the depths of space and time Standin' three eyes blind on the firing line Word to my man divine, come too far, Singin' la ilaha illa Allah Twelve rakats short on my full day's prayer Just hoping that the lord got some mercy to spare They go one for the ummah, two for the deen Three for the angels, four for the alamin Somewhere between totally obscene And perfectly clean, got a Babylon feelin' Wounds that need healin', truth need revealin' Hands need washin' from all the dirty dealin' From the floor to the ceilin', from the stage to the door From the kings and the queens and the slaves and the whores For every lost cause where the martyrs are found That funky little sound, that make you want to get down Somebody told me once, love makes the world go round Now kids they carry pistols out on the playground That profound, gone too far. Praying to the light from a burned out star Put your lights on, put down your crosses It's time to tally up your wins and your losses They go one for Scott La Rock Two for Pac and B.I.G. And three for all the mothers who got graves to dig For all the mothers who got graves to dig For all the mothers who got graves to dig
