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Calabama
Prince
Intro:
D Bm7
Whoo
D
Uh, uh, uh
Come on, yeah
D
All the pretty ladies just clap your hands
Bm7
Clap your hands, clap your hands
D
All the pretty ladies just clap your hands
[Verso 1]
D
I just got some news today
Bm7
Everything I wished for came my way
D
Love and peace and big money
Bm7
More new members in the family
D
Haters finally dropped their guns
Bm7
Wasn't loaded anyway, scared no one
D
Went from ten bodyguards to none
If they don't read, then posse no fun
But here come Calibama talkin' mo' stuff
Bm7
Guess a hundred million records ain't enough
D
All-Stars ar comin' from the first to last
Anybody don't can
Stay quiet while I bring th noise
Bm7
We just got some brand new toys
D
If y'all ready just show me love
Watch Calibama get bugged
[Refrão]
D Bm7
Uh, all the pretty ladies just clap your hands
D
All the funky brothers dance to my band
D Bm7
Ha, NPG cuttin' up your rug, uh
D
Uh, watch Calibama get bugged
[Verso 2]
D
Verbal coat in flattery
Bm7
Drum machine electricity
D
Every time I look I see
Another facsimile
D
Pick and drumstick not in hand
Bm7
See no music on the stand
D
Grab your partner, gather 'round
This is how we all get down
[Refrão]
D
Whoo
Bm7
All the pretty ladies just clap your hands
D
All the funky brothers dance to my band
D Bm7
NPG, NPG cuttin' up your rug
D
Uh, lawd
Watch Calibama get bugged, come on
[Pós-Refrão]
D Bm7
Horns
D
Uh
Horns
Bm7 D
[Verso 3]
Uh, like a rim shot on a New Roots joint
My band's tight, yeah
Em E
Anointed, all natural
Pass my tape, go straight to jail
And another thing, when I sing
Black and white hold hands
Start clappin' when we enter the jam
Back dance if you wanna just clap your hands
Here we come, y'all, uh
Prisoner Band, good God
[Refrão]
Em
Em
Em
Em
Em
Look out
[Verso 4]
Em E
Happy 'cause we just got paid
Free from all contracts
Chillin' in the shade of the sun's light
E
Oh, we got it right
Distribute your own, make a mil' overnight
Before the tax come, quick buy some land
Don't build nothin', just clap your hands
Em E
Don't build nothin', just clap your hands
Here we come, y'all, uh
Prisoner Band
Ha, Prisoner Band
Em
[Verso 5]
Em
Record labels used to be a friend of mine
F#m
Now they're just a monumental waste of time
Em
Sell a million records, make a dollar a pop
You're still on recruit when your band get dropped
Em
Got your own label but you're givin' 'em half
Expenses off the top, who's takin' a bath?
Em
Seven years of grind like it's only your name
Is what you pay to keep yourself a slave to that game
Outro:
And what you can't do alone is not worth the fame
G#m
All of y'all get older but I still look the same
C#m
Too funky, y'all can't understand
C#m
Uh, the Prisoner Band