MY SHOT

I am not throw ing a way my shot!

I am not throw ing a way my shot!

I am (Cm)just like my coun try, I’m young, scrap py and hun gry, and I’m (D7)not throw ing a way my shot!

I’m ’a get a schol ar ship to King’s Col lege.

I prob ’ly should n’t brag, but dag, I a maze and a ston ish.

The prob lem is I got a lot of brains but no pol ish.

I got ta hol ler just to be heard.

With ev er y word, I drop know edge!

I’m a dia mond in the rough, a shin y piece of coal tryin’ to reach my goal.

My pow er of speech: un im peach a ble.

On ly nine teen but my mind is old er.

These New York Cit y streets get cold er, I shoul der ev ’ry bur den, ev ’ry dis ad van tage I have learned to man age, I don’t have a gun to bran dish, I walk these streets fam ished.

The plan is to fan this spark in to a flame.

But damn, it’s get ting dark, so let me spell out the name.

I am the (F)A L E X A N D (Bb)E R.

We are meant to be a col o ny that runs in de pen dent ly.

Mean while Brit ain keeps shit tin’ on us end less ly.

Es sen tial ly, they tax us re lent less ly, then King George turns a round, runs a spend ing spree.

He ain’t ev er gon na set his de scen dants free, so there will be a rev o lu tion in this cen tu ry.

En ter me!

(He says in pa ren the ses.) Don’t be shocked when your his t’ry book men tions me.

I will lay down my life if it sets us free.

E ven tual ly, you’ll see my as cen dan cy, and I am not throw ing a way my shot!

I am not throw ing a way my shot!

Hey yo, I’m (Cm)just like my coun try, I’m young, scrap py and hun gry, and I’m (D7)not throw ing a way my shot!

I am (Gm)not throw ing a way my shot.

(F)I am (Bb)not throw ing a way my shot!

Hey (Bdim)yo, I’m (Cm)just like my coun try, I’m young, scrap py and hun gry, and I’m (Cm)not throw ing a way my (D7)shot.

Ev ’ry bod y sing: (Gm)Whoa, whoa, whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Ay, let ’em hear ya!

Let’s go!

(Gm)Whoa, whoa, whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Come on!

Yeah!

Come on, let’s go!

(Gm)Rise up!