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5x - Fat pat Lyrics

By: Admin | Artist: F fat pat | Published: 2024-22-09T02:53:19:00+07:00

Lirikku.ID - 5x - Fat pat Lyrics: Halo Lirikku.ID, Dalam konten ini, kami menyediakan chord gitar untuk lagu "5x - Fat pat Lyrics" yang dinyanyikan oleh Toton F fat pat. 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 5x - Fat pat Lyrics Berikut Dibawah ini untuk Selanjutnya.

[intro: fat pat, pymp tyte, both]
five times to your chest, may you rest in pieces
the punk polices, k!lling other n*ggas like diseases
screaming “jesus” on your knees, please help yo child
no witnesses, no sentences, so f*ck the judge and his trial

[verse 1: pymp tyte]
light up a blunt for my n*ggas who is dead and gone
in big memories, makin’ sure they names live on
i get my hustle on, tryna get rich off of zone
poke a smoke like cheech & chong
can’t be ripped in the stone
punk, the problem, but the judge is sick and tired of seeing me
locked me under stiles unit, swallow the master p
but it’s all about red shop, k!ller weed and fat
not long type of life, it won’t stop ’til we reach the top
they say life is a b*tch ’til you learn how to pimp
many busters built enough to watch them burst like a puma
keep my mind on my riches, my b*tches on corners
the late reactions ’cause the weed relax my thoughts like a song

[verse 2: fat pat]
as i blow marijuana, i warn ya, crime do pay
picking my throws, smoking my dope, just like back in the old days
flipping them 20*inch blades, some n*ggas call them slab*cutters
tvs all up in the headrests on coach leather [?]
b*tches blowin’ up my number on my cele*telle phone
that’s why i keep that b*tch alone because i’m never at home
i see a pusher in my zone, player, time to get [?]
throw a hander out the bag, time to wrap a mean bag
make his whole family sad
it’s the break*a*b*tch grad, late for school gettin’ high, sit in the back of the class
even though i failed math, i learned the commas through cash
five times to your chest, i had you sportin’ a bloodbath, n*gga
[chorus: fat pat, pymp tyte, both]
five times to your chest, may you rest in pieces
the punk polices, k!lling other n*ggas like diseases
screaming “jesus” on your knees, please help yo child
no witnesses, no sentences, so f*ck the judge and his trial
five times to your chest, may you rest in pieces
the punk polices, k!lling other n*ggas like diseases
screaming “jesus” on your knees, please help yo child
no witnesses, no sentences, so f*ck the judge and his trial

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