Gone (ft. 602 Byron & Brizzy Wes) - Jdthesun Lyrics

By: Admin | Artist: J jdthesun | Published: 2024-01-10T02:22:36:00+07:00

Lirikku.ID - Gone (ft. 602 Byron & Brizzy Wes) - Jdthesun Lyrics: Halo Lirikku.ID, Dalam konten ini, kami menyediakan chord gitar untuk lagu "Gone (ft. 602 Byron & Brizzy Wes) - Jdthesun Lyrics" yang dinyanyikan oleh Toton J jdthesun. 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 Gone (ft. 602 Byron & Brizzy Wes) - Jdthesun Lyrics Berikut Dibawah ini untuk Selanjutnya.

[jdthesun]
ion’ got a bag, for the b*tch, she don’t need no cash
she just want this d*ck
brother in the back, w/ the strap, he ain’t ever gon’ leave
trigger finger just itch
shawty went bad, and she back, cuz’ my wrist on froze
but she sad, cuz’ my heart more cold
who the toad, who croaked, 2*6 f*ck a pistol and a badge
ion’ need no blue to wear a strap

‘nina got an attitude
make a motherf*cker backflip
gratitude for money, and my brothers, and a bad b*tch
i ain’t never talking to ’em ’till i get to rapping
but let these ‘motherf*cka’s try to play me as a counter*fit
i swear
say you sending shots, you can’t hurt ’em in the air
shawty got cake, make her tax it like the fair
if you can’t relate, stay the f*ck*up over there
don’t be scared, heres a care*bear, since you so sweet
what’s the word, on the street, yea it’s he
if i’m moving with the work, im discreet
yea he dead, ain’t the same, about the beef
shoot a shirt, when you see him on a t
what’s a bird to a b*tch spillin’ tea
why’s it hurtin’ if never gon’ bleed
what’s a working motherf*cker to somebody gotta eat
just another motherf*cker with a lease, sh*t
brother said i turnt into a beast
this, b*tch, told me f*ck her to the beat
go, crazy when i’m in it like a freak
she a freak too, on her knees, who told her, ion’ know
hopefully, not a ghost, but she acting like a demon w/ the way she use her throat
almost thought i saw a halo, must’ve been an angle, other than my momma i ain’t never met an angel
b*tch i’m
gone
i hit the road
i’m doing shows
i’m on a go*mode
you watchin’ go*pro’s
just to try, to understand, how we live this life
do wrong just to get it right
’till i met the motherf*ckin’ mic

ion’ got a bag, for the b*tch, she don’t need no cash
she just want this d*ck
brother in the back, w/ the strap, he ain’t ever gon’ leave
trigger finger just itch
shawty went bad, and she back, cuz’ my wrist on froze
but she sad, cuz’ my heart more cold
but i said bye, ‘lil b*tch
f*ck up, i hit the road

[602 byron]
yeah
i’m back to the bag
i’m gettin this money and sh*t i ain’t had
i’m getting to bread
cuz they ain’t want help me when i was down bad
yeah, i’m back to the bag
pretty boy yeah i know that you mad
left your p*ssy ass leaking, took all of your gold, and you p*ssy’s don’t know how to act
yeah you p*ssy’s don’t know how to act
had to cut off the snakes and the rats
and quit asking about me, you know where to find me, ‘lil n*gga you know where i’m at
i be posted inside of the trap
got my liquor my boys off the ‘yak
if you choose the wrong side, and f*ck with the opps then n*gga just stay where you at
yeah n*gga just stay where you at
arp’s and the glock’s on my lap
5.56, 2.23 and i’m leaving the scene if you p*ssy’s just try me relax
cuz’ n*gga i was raised in the vale
from the desert you know we raise h*ll
i was talking to god, and write in my journal when i was locked up in that cell

[brizzy wes]
i got 300 ounces baby who rollin it
if you ain’t f*cking imma kick you out the cullinan
everything exotic what you talking about
i got 50 rounds what you talking about
‘lil boy you p*ssy yeah, watch your mouth
‘lil boy you p*ssy, put you on the shelf
10 karat ring, punch you in your mouth
paparazzi sing, that’s 100 rounds
your b*tch f*cked the team
did the run around
they say i’m the morning king
you still bumming out
you still bumming out

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