City Of Stars

F E A C D7
E A D7 E A

[Verse 1]
D7               E                 A
I know that you think this song is for you
D7             E             A
I used to long for you and adore you
D7               E               A
My life was just fine way back before you
D7                 E             A
Now when you reach out I just ignore you

[Hook]
                   D7         E
Cause this ain't a love song (woah)
          A
This is, "So long"
           D7           E
You did me so wrong for so long
             A
For so long, for so long

[Verse 2]
D7                          E                A
No, I never thought I could live my life without you
D7                         E                        A
All you ever seem to do is scream and make it all about you

[Refrain]
               D7
And so I doubt you
  E                                A
I doubt you even know what's on my mind
          D7
I said, I doubt you
  E                                  A
I doubt you even know why I left you behind

[Interlude]
  D7                         E
I know that I've been living
  A
I know that I've been living
  D7                         E
I know that I've been living
  A
I know that I've been living
               D7                   E
In the city of stars, where there's flying cars
  A
A brand new home for everyone and even life on Mars
               D7                   E
In the city of stars, where there's flying cars
  G                  C            A
A brand new home for everyone and even life on Mars

[Hook]
                   D7         E
Cause this ain't a love song (woah)
          A
This is, "So long"
           D7           E
You did me so wrong for so long
             A
For so long, for so long

[Refrain]
               D7
And so I doubt you
  E                                A
I doubt you even know what's on my mind
          D7
I said, I doubt you
  E                              A
I doubt you even know why I left you-

[Instrumental]
A
F E A x2

[Verse 3]
A
Yeah, uh, yeah...
     F
Much love to Def Jam, even though they under shipped me
E
Did me like Bobby did Whitney, but the fans was with me
        A
Know my name around the world but it still ain't hit me
A
All the talent in the world and they still don't get me
         F
I didn't talk about my race on the whole first album
    E
But black vs. white bullshit was the still the outcome
A
How come these motherfuckers can't seem to let it go?
A
Judging rap by race instead of the better flow
                                                 E
Who gives a fuck who made it? I penetrate it and innovate it
E
While they emulate it, give a fuck if I'm hated
A
I'mma do it 'til I get it, fuck a nominated
A
Bitch, I dominate it
      F
Yeah, emails from Rick Rubin, dinner with No ID
              E
Chilling with B-I-G D-A-Double-D-Y K-A-N-E
                A
Not many get to do what I do, and now enemies
A
Thinking they slick as fuck like the finna befriending me
    F
But let's get back to the music, I'm gone
                      E
Outside of this solar system, I'm searching for paradise
                             A
Livin' the life, bitch, I've been a vet
A
Fuck all these cats on the internet
A
I love hip hop and I hate hip hop
                  F
Cause people that love Pac hope that Drake get shot
              E
Cause he raps about money and bitches, for heaven's sakes
            A
Pac did the same shit, just on a drum break
A
Now, I ain't wanna name names, I'm just droppin' this game
                                              Bb
We all people, all equal—now let me let off, yeah
Bb
Now let me let off
F
Tougher than raw denim, my flow you can't identify
E
Talib said it best back in the day, we just tryna get by
A                   E
Two words, Mos Def, in my headphones
E
Black on one side, now I'm in another zone
F
Switch flows, fuck 'em up—play the game, run 'em up
E
Yeah, I sold a couple records but people don't give a fuck
A
All the people want is real, guess that's why Logic appeal
C
All the power in the world; hold that, tell me how that feel?
F
Racism on television and magazines
       E
Paying taxes so soldiers don't run out of magazines, god damn
A
Country don't give a fuck who I am
A
Just a youngin' on the rise with a mic in my hand
          F
And I am, here's to the Roc
                      Bb
The .45 Glock that my older brother pop—shot
      F                                      C
And I am, finally on top; too high up, not a drop
C
Stop, we gettin' guap, gettin' guap
  F
I am, livin' like I ain't got it
                 E
Spit the flow so robotic, man who gives a fuck about it
                C
Maryland 'til I die, but I had to get the fuck up out it
              G
I love it and hate it, you probably don't know, man, I doubt it