8AM In Charlotte - Drake, ukulele chords


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Published: 2023-12-06 22:20
Selection chords: Katie Paterson



for easy: Tonality +1

Tonality
G#m7 C#m



Intro:
  G#m7                   C#m
 In Godʼs hands (Conductor)
  C#m      G#m7
 Be grateful
   G#m7            C#m
 That He was there
    C#m
 Glory (Yeah)
     G#m7
 Iʼm out here on the road
                         C#m
 You can hear it in the voice (Glory)
                                   G#m7
 Ah em, still get this shit off, though
      G#m7
 Look

 Verse:
  C#m                                                 G#m7
 The money speakinʼ for itself, I call it fortune tell
 G#m7                                              C#m
 Fire top from a bitch that work at corporate sales
    C#m
 Chinchilla ushanka, we skiinʼ out in Courchevel
   G#m7
 Breakinʼ news, they tried to kill him, but the boy prevails

 C#m
 I leave for tour and my niggas fuckinʼ Go to jail
   G#m7
 Preachinʼ to the dogs ʼbout wantinʼ more for themselves
 C#m
 Itʼs weighinʼ heavy on my moral scale
               G#m7
 Knowinʼ they gonʼ sell another citizen ʼcane, they think they Orson Welles

 C#m
 Walk in Chanel, they like, "How the fuck you need more Chanel?"
  G#m7
 I got these cats tuckinʼ tails on fourth quarter sales
  C#m
 Iʼm used to seeinʼ tears drop over enormous meals
  G#m7
 The restaurant clears out, faint echoes of Lauryn Hill

 C#m
 I say, "We gotta talk about us," I feel like Jordan Peele
   G#m7
 Could tell Iʼm gettinʼ under your skin like a orange peel
   C#m
 ʼCause your words donʼt match your actions like a foreign film
  G#m7
 And now itʼs silence in the Lambʼ like the horror film

 C#m
 Things get quiet after me statinʼ the obvious
   G#m7
 Things get kinky after fifteen years of dominance
   C#m
 That October sky is lookinʼ ominous
   G#m7
 The money is autonomous

                                    G#m7
 Shoutʼ to Oliver North, he out in Rome doinʼ Toronto shit
   G#m7                               G#m7
 And Jeremiah the watchdog, you niggas know what time it is
    C#m                              C#m
 Iʼm in and out of Houston Hobby so much, Iʼm a hobbyist
                                G#m7
 Hoes waitinʼ on Cench in the lobby, that boy a lobbyist

 C#m
 Savage got a green card straight out of the consulate
                         G#m7
 Where I go, you go, brother, we Yugoslavian
                            C#m
 Formal is the dress code, dawg, so many checks owed
   C#m                       G#m7
 I feel Czechoslovakian, nigga, what the fuck?

  G#m7                                          C#m
 Nah, Iʼm movinʼ different right now, for real, like
   C#m                                                  G#m7
 I feel like if Mike switched out the glove for the pen, like
   G#m7                                           C#m
 This shit just too enticing right now, you know?
  C#m
 Look

   C#m                             G#m7
 Diamonds Do the silly dance, I raise up the wine glass
                                   C#m
 Metal detectors beepinʼ and security bypass
  C#m                      G#m7
 The numbers goinʼ up, someone pull up the line graph
  G#m7                                   C#m
 The days are goinʼ by, itʼs like Iʼm livinʼ in time lapse
                   G#m7
 Been talkinʼ to Adel like he majored in finance
  G#m7                          C#m
 Shania Twain, notepad, Iʼm makinʼ it line dance
      C#m                        G#m7
 You tryna rob me, and itʼs gonʼ feel like you
    G#m7                                         C#m
 sittinʼ at your favorite restaurant ʼcause, nigga, thatʼs where you dyinʼ at
  C#m                          G#m7
 Mob ties, I swear we like a bitch with fine sisters
   G#m7                         C#m
 and fine cousins, the family all bad
  C#m                                              G#m7
 Iʼm preachinʼ to the dawgs about cleaninʼ they images
    G#m7                                      C#m
 I swear Iʼm like a young T.D. Jakes to my menaces
                                    G#m7
 Long kiss goodnight, PDA for my nemesis
     G#m7                             C#m
 Three hunnid acres, PGA on the premises
 C#m                                                       G#m7
 Thatʼs whatʼs really brackinʼ like this verse in parentheses
   G#m7
 Iʼm givinʼ hits to niggas on some, donʼt even mention it


 Like, donʼt even worry about it, like
          C#m
 You can hit me back whenever, or
             G#m7
 Or donʼt, you know?
    G#m7                 C#m
 It is what it is, I guess
  C#m
 Yeah, hm
  C#m
 Look

 C#m                                           G#m7
 You young boys take some of that money and set it aside
   G#m7                                      C#m
 Not havinʼ enough to pay your tax is a federal crime
  C#m                                                 G#m7
 You niggas obsessed with me, and itʼs not on no hetero vibe
  G#m7                                           C#m
 Handle beef so quiet, you think that Iʼm lettinʼ it slide
   C#m                                       G#m7
 Next thing you know, we tip toeinʼ past enemy lines
    G#m7                                   C#m
 Diss me so long ago, we making your memories fly
 C#m                                                       G#m7
 Conspiracy theories start floatinʼ ʼround like the Kennedy guy
  G#m7                                                     C#m
 Iʼll prolly hold a grudge against you guys ʼtil Iʼm seventy five
    C#m                                        G#m7
 Ayy, niggas lyinʼ for a livinʼ, I couldnʼt relate
 G#m7                                                C#m
 We all gotta lay in the bed we make, but that couldnʼt be Drake

 C#m                                             G#m7
 You forced a lot of fake love when real ones stood in your face
   G#m7                                              C#m
 Thatʼs why you got deserted by your niggas like puddinʼ and cake
 C#m                                          G#m7
 I got you on camera bowinʼ down, but the footage is safe
  G#m7                         C#m
 Thank God, another USB to put in the safe
  C#m                                  G#m7
 Thank God, at the crib, dippinʼ my foot in the lake
 G#m7                                                            C#m
 I swear that yʼall turned me into the villain, I couldnʼt escape
  C#m
 Not sayinʼ Iʼm the best at what I do
    G#m7
 Iʼm just sayinʼ that itʼs me versus whoever wanna lose
   C#m                                              G#m7
 Pick any one of the Whoʼs Whos, I got .22s for new crews
  G#m7                                    C#m
 R.I.P. to the DJ from Houston, we loose screws
     C#m
 Helicopters, cop lights, and news crews
   G#m7                                      C#m
 Niggas steady cryinʼ to my daddy, well, boo hoo
 C#m                                            G#m7
 You prolly heard a lot about the boy, well, true, true, haha

Outro:
 (In Godʼs hands) Yeah
 (Be grateful)
 (That He was there)


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