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Lirik Lagu Black hippy - Top Dawg Cypha


By: Admin | Artist: B black hippy | Published: 2024-12-07T19:04:24:00+07:00
Lirik Lagu Black hippy - Top Dawg CyphaLirikku.ID - Lirik Lagu Black hippy - Top Dawg Cypha: Halo Lirikku.ID, Dalam konten ini, kami menyediakan chord gitar untuk lagu "Lirik Lagu Black hippy - Top Dawg Cypha" yang dinyanyikan oleh Toton B black hippy. Dengan chord yang disajikan, pemula atau penggemar musik dapat dengan mudah memainkan lagu ini dengan gitar mereka sendiri. Kami menyajikan chord dengan akurasi tinggi sehingga pemain dapat mengikuti alunan musiknya dengan baik. Juga, kami akan memberikan informasi tambahan mengenai lirik lagu dan mungkin beberapa tips untuk menyempurnakan permainan gitar. Konten ini cocok untuk penggemar musik yang ingin belajar lagu baru atau bagi mereka yang ingin menikmati kesenangan bermain musik dengan gitar. Silahkan disimak Lirik Lagu Black hippy - Top Dawg Cypha Berikut Dibawah ini untuk Selanjutnya.

[verse 1: lil louie]
i love green
when i wake up the sky green
i keep the 40 glock c-cked when i’m ridin’
yeah, i’ll be riding, dirty with my n-gga dirty
you want beef?
hollow tips leave your eyes burnin’
my guys carry, all types of guns
i’m on the block gettin’ money blood, man f-ck the ones
i don’t talk snitch n-ggas, i don’t f-ck with ’em
i let the chopper get at ‘em like blum-blum-blum-blum
never trust no b-tch, let ’em
suck the d-ck, that’s it, then split now it’s
back to my gutter tip, 24’s on the whip
montana in the pot, i’m the chef on the shift
n-ggas yappin’ at they lips, till my gat at they lip
then i make they head spin like they drunk off a fifth
i got a lot of chips, i hustle with alotta pimps
knockin’ goons, i’m a goon, ‘lot of hoes wanna strip

[verse 2: jay rock]
new coupe, top disappear like [?]
i’m in the hood, pockets heavy like bruce bruce
d-mn, i’m like a bullet when i shoot through
i’m the sh-t, these whack rappers is boo-boo
we hit the club, pop bottles like it’s nothing
top dolla, pop hollows out the impala
pay dues, spray tunes n-gga we wylin’
money, power, respect, mothaf-cka we dialin’
top dawg money gang, get affiliated
.38 special flow, n-ggas can’t trace it (d-mn)
i’m still dope dealin’, picture that
cookin the crack is fine, what i cook on the track
rippin’ it fast, fiends run it back, get it stacked
blow it fast, get it back, at the mall, pop tags
hit the lot, buy a ‘lac ride out
top dawg e-n-t, n-ggas know what we about, we get money

[verse 3: ab-soul]
ab-soul chillin’, ab-soul chillin’
back for the first time, finna bomb yo buildin’
who put a bomb in the buildin’? what, a bomb in the buildin’?
thats just rhymes about bombs, i could do rhymes about children
kids gettin’ f-cked, pedophile with the style
young mike jack, yeah i’m somethin’ like that
bad to the bone, press your luck like a b-tton
and i’m comin’ like the kgb
but i ain’t russian!
i’m takin’ my time with it, patrón with the lime in it
got a n-gga buzzin’ like a bug in the club
i’m usher raymond, please show me love in the club, i’m sayin’
i need it like a stripper need a tip
or a catcher need a mitt, or a sneaker need a grip
a gymnast need a flip, or super head need lifts
soulo, yeah i’m comin’ straight for the top
been spendin’ it like a jew, happy hannukah to you

[verse 4: schoolboy q]
(hey you) huh? oh sh-t, can i kick it?
dragon breathe fire when i spits it
santa claus raps got me gifted, lifted
runnin’ at the mouth, get it shifted
blistered, thought it was a dream so i pinched it
rap got me hooked, so i fished it
only 6 bars and i sensed it
rise from defeat, never ran from the beef
ball hard in the street, mad cow with my t–th
money over b-tches, friends over b-tches
hoes over b-tches, benz over switches
top 5 alive, and you n-ggas ain’t listed
hip hop is dead and you know the boy fixed it
straight locksmithed it
open up the doors for the young n-gga sellin’ crack
on the side of stores just to keep the body breathin’
never wanna be a heathen
been puttin’ in the hours
shouda blown with the towers
i’m real talk

[verse 5: kendrick lamar]
and a n-gga was built with a steel heart
k. dot on the beat, everybody said they smell fart
sh-t on anybody, i’m a rappin’ porta potty
and i probaby gotta dump right now
see my hobby is to murder every rapper on the planet
make ’em leave the studio in ambulances
with a bandage on their cranium
i’m bangin’ them on sight, with the bars of t-tanium
br-ss knuckles, i beat n-ggas down, who wanna scuffle?
i’m rude like sayin’ ‘f-ck you’ to your mother for no reason, now that’s cold thinkin’
what am i drinkin’?
i do, spiteful sh-t, sh-t like f-ck your b-tch
record it, then mail it to your residence
say h-llo to the unforgiving flow, cold with it
grab a c0ke we gon’ be here for a minute
i tell every rapper fall back when i see ’em
or get clapped like a b-tch with gonorrhea


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