Lirik Lagu Killah Priest – Bop Your Head
By: Admin | Artist: K killah priest | Published: 2024-07-07T11:18:12:00+07:00
Lirikku.ID - Lirik Lagu Killah Priest – Bop Your Head: Halo Lirikku.ID, Dalam konten ini, kami menyediakan chord gitar untuk lagu "Lirik Lagu Killah Priest – Bop Your Head" yang dinyanyikan oleh Toton K killah priest. 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 Killah Priest – Bop Your Head Berikut Dibawah ini untuk Selanjutnya.[intro: killah priest]
yea, yea, yea, yea.
yea, yea. f-ck that!
i’m set it off. yea, yea, ya sh-tted.
ya in some sh-t now, son.
it’s on now, mothaf-ckas can suck my d-ck.
i’m back! f-ck that sh-t!
ready to eat n-gg-z up, beat they -ss and e’rything, son.
i’ma prove this sh-t, right here.
me and my n-gg-. what!?
[killah priest]
the emperor, chief sinister, street minister
guarenteed in two bars to finish ya
react like a cat when he arches back
give a fake rapper a heart attack, once i start to rap
i’m a vocalist, n-gg-, supposed to rip
last poet’s told me this, hit ya in ya head wit my explosive fist
then i finish ya off with my tremendous horse-kick
what now, n-gg-? look at ya, talk sh-t
can’t do it, ’cause you ain’t got no teeth in ya mouth
and i know ya just tired of me, beatin ya out
ya trained all year, in a karate cl-ss
it took one second, to put yo’ -ss in a body bag
>from a shotty blast, i walk up in ya club and ya parties don’t last
i like to pop sh-t, don’t get me started
i slap y’all mothaf-ckas like y’all little kids in kindegarten
squeeze yo’ head till yo’ kidneys harden
now watch this, i’ma call my whole mothaf-ckin squadron
and tell n-gg-z to just start robbin
’cause y’all n-gg-z is f-cked up
and brooklyn n-gg-z is really ready to get ya
i know how to hit ya, and cut ya open
but don’t worry, ’cause i’ma st-tch ya, with a rusty screwdriver
[chorus: killah priest]
n-gg-z bop yo’ heads to this, real sh-t
call up yo’ clicks to this, it’s realness
you feel this in yo’ streets and village
spare that new sh-t, priest killed it
y! n-gg-z bop yo’ heads to this, real sh-t
call up yo’ clicks to this, it’s realness
you feel this in yo’ streets and village
spare that new sh-t, ‘bus killed it
[canibus]
yo, yo, yo
yo i’m a macabeast mc and i possess the ability
to run at top speed without bendin my knees
i destory sh-t, pin-point asteroids in orbit
then, hurl n-gg-z thousands of miles an hour, towards it
f-ckin heathen, wrap my hands around ya neck region
then i start squeezin ’til ya stop breathin
you weaklins is playin tug-of-war wit ya tongues
i knock the teeth out ya gums and suck the breeze out ya lungs
hit ya wit a blow your physical frame could never sustain
you’ll probably never walk ever again
n-gg-, you think you rhyme sick? i leave you lyin stiff
pull you behind my horse til i break ya spine, b-tch
stop cryin b-tch, before i hit ya wit the iron, b-tch
you can’t rhyme b-tch, the one triple nine’s mine b-tch
the pain’ll make ya voice change octaves
>from low-pitched to high-pitched, every hour we kill a hostage
we judge mc’s by they lyrical fitness
and punish dj’s for puttin corny stickers on they mixes
smack the stripper b-tches for askin for our autograph and pictures
you’ll be scared to leave the club wit us
you scratch my back, i’ll scratch your’s b-tch
i’ll eat ya salt-fish, if ya suck my sausage
i got an atomic sub, armed wit a sub-atomic scud
ready to spill ya crimson-colored blood
the four hors-m-n on the back of four quadropeds
puttin four hoof prints on ya foreheads, mothaf-ckas!
(there it is!) so bop ya heads to that, uh (there it is!)
[chorus]
[outro: killah priest]
f-ckin p-ssy emcee’s, gon’ get a shot in the eye
y’all n-gg-z talk behind n-gg-‘s backs
y’all n-gg-z better bop ya mothaf-ckin heads before we blow it off
ya f-ckin perfume missin idiots
y’all n-gg-z always runnin, go run and tell that
go on, runnin, run behind somebody’s back
run and tell that and take these f-ckin slugs wit ya
we gon’ get ya mothaf-ckin clown
yea…
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