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Lirik Lagu King critical – Everything’s Chrome


By: Admin | Artist: K king critical | Published: 2024-12-07T05:06:27:00+07:00
Lirik Lagu King critical – Everything’s ChromeLirikku.ID - Lirik Lagu King critical – Everything’s Chrome: Halo Lirikku.ID, Dalam konten ini, kami menyediakan chord gitar untuk lagu "Lirik Lagu King critical – Everything’s Chrome" yang dinyanyikan oleh Toton K king critical. 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 King critical – Everything’s Chrome Berikut Dibawah ini untuk Selanjutnya.

[intro: king critical]
its critical, n~gga
why everything chrome?
lean, swag, rock with it
lean, swag, rock with it
lean, swag rock with it
its the remix
glizzy what you cooking up?

[verse 1: king critical]
i get to the money, i get it and go
i’m f~ckin’ your b~tch, got d~ck in her throat
n~gga, lean, just poured up a four
run in your spot, taking your dough
hit ’em high, hit ’em low, low
woah, woah, woah
its critical, n~gga
let me quit playin’ and get on this beat
i don’t wanna hear when you talkin’ to me
freestyle, but the drip ain’t free
bust down and the b~tch ain’t cheap
she cuffin’ now, i done hit her for weeks
up now, got a sale on my weed
i got the keys to the streets
i’m sending n~ggas, bring ’em to me
these diamonds dancing, quit lookin’ at me
n~ggas be famous when they beefin’ with me
you got guns, we got cannons
hit ’em with drums, call the mechanic
n~ggas be groovin’, n~ggas be movin’
callin’ my shooters, they come and do you
young n~ggas shooting, these young n~ggas shoot
come to my city, won’t see ’em again
[verse 2: duke duece]
what the f~ck
f~ck it, i pop out, i’m bustin’
sound like a percussion
k from russia
n~gga better not touch me
if i missed, you lucky
big old k and it came with a scope
n~gga, i ain’t going out, put it on folks
k got a drum, that b~tch done roll
n~ggas still up (chk~chk) reload (bow, bow)
call him 6ix9ine, he a snitch
see it in your eyes, you a b~tch
i got six nine’s, them ho’s gon’ hit
leave your dirty ass in a ditch
uhh, yeah, i see that you’re scared, you’re p~ssing the bed
i don’t give a f~ck that they calling the feds
its f~ck the police, you heard what i said
we keep that sh~t gutter, you know how we play
hold my wrist up, special ed
f~ckin’ that ho for that sh~t that you said
d~ck in her kidney, we came in y’all bed
f~ck her for free, but you givin’ her bread
give me a nut and i left her on read
ho, f~ck you mean? i’m the fat mack
when i say [?] ain’t cutting no slack
we stay by pimpin’ or get your ass smacked
what? get your ass smacked
stuck with the strap, ’cause i came through the back
get down with the mob, might come with a pack
bought me these shoes, i feel like shaq
[?] boy, k!ller get hats
get you outside, you’ll get whacked
my guys don’t zook, but they slide, thats facts
what the f~ck
[chorus: king critical & key glock]
glock to your top
make them lean, where they rock
got a glock to your top (woah)
make them lean, where they rock
with a glock to your top (woah)
make them lean, where they rock (woah)
with a glock to your top (woah)
(yeah, yeah, yeah)
make them lean, where they rock
(yeah, yeah, yeah)

[verse 3: key glock]
i got a .40 its filled with criticals
i got them sticks, i got plenty of ’em
i’m balling so hard this sh~t pitiful
i took his b~tch then i biffed her up
she like glizzy, you’re so unforgetable
shut up, b~tch turn, around and gitty up
yeah, ride this d~ck, b~tch gitty up
lil wh0re, this b~tch thick as a horse
cummin’ got my voice ho~rs~
but f~ck it, i’m posting more
but f~ck it, i’ll post some more
b~tch, i get high like its a chore
hoppin’ out the lamborghini, liftin’ my door
yeah, i’m hoppin’ out the lamborghini, liftin’ my door
this a lamborghini urus, not aventador
told gang, lets go up the score
ballin’ so hard, n~ggas can’t ignore it
and i keep a stick, i’ll burn you like a s’more (bop, bop, bop)
ten toes down, hard body to the core
got racks on racks, my legs get sore
so many dead men, this sh~t like a morgue


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