Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Sonido


Interfaz


Nivel de dificultad


Acento



lenguaje de interfaz

es

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Política de cookies   |   Apoyo   |   FAQ
1
registro de inicio de sesión
Lyrkit

donar

5$

Lyrkit

donar

10$

Lyrkit

donar

20$

Lyrkit

Y/o apoyarme en las redes sociales. redes:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Vinnie Paz

Necklace Of Heads

 

Necklace Of Heads

(álbum: The Pain Collector - 2018)


Yeah, 1 2
Yo Oh No
This shit crazy pop
Look, 1 2
Aiight, look
Yeah

Lick shots like they would do with the fever
Stab 'em dead or a Pompeii, Julius Caesar
Knife work nice, show you what to do with a cleaver
Son mounafikoun, he a truthful deceiver
Supplication on the plains of Arafat
Peurto Ricans everywhere, they talk to me in Arawak
Money always [?], and I'ma pull the barrel back
Knowing damn well he couldn't see me like a cataract
Where the organ grinder partner, tell me where the Tommy at
And riddle him with bullets in him, move him like an army rat
Anarchist and Marxist, you listening to Commie rap
Self-proclaimed God so the fuck if I'ma honor that
This rap tried to get me book like a library
My shot unorthodox like Shawn Marion
Powers of pain, Animal Hawk and barbarian
You beaten by the fist of God so Paul bury 'em

One gun, two gun, three gun, four
It ain't an adversary that's ready to go to war
One gun, two gun, three gun, four
A hundred round drum and it'll clear the fucking floor

I told y'all not to fuck with me
Kidnaps taking the kids like full custody
Every rhyme like my first, I spit hungrily
Y'all don't know cheese and wine out in Tuscany
Y'all think having a rack is called luxury
All bark and no bite, you not touching me
It's too dark for you, the wind is too blustering
I don't like cops or opps in my company
The trap boys still cooking the brick
And it's raw so it look like they cooking the grit
If I counted every bottle that I took to the dick
I'd lose count pa, I was in a room full of shit
You cupcaked out, still bitching 'bout a jawn
End-game talking 'bout a bishop verse a pawn
You dead going to sleep, listening to birds chirping
The type of asshole to be talking in third person

One gun, two gun, three gun, four
It ain't an adversary that's ready to go to war
One gun, two gun, three gun, four
A hundred round drum and it'll clear the fucking floor

Yeah, yeah
Pack Pistol Pazzy and all that, the Sicilian Shooter
Y'nam sayin'?
Philly in this mahfucker, yeah
That's the law

hecho

¿Agregaste todas las palabras desconocidas de esta canción?