P.i.m.p - Mrciberluck Lyrics
By: Admin | Artist: M mrciberluck | Published: 2024-20-09T11:04:59:00+07:00
Lirikku.ID - P.i.m.p - Mrciberluck Lyrics: Halo Lirikku.ID, Dalam konten ini, kami menyediakan chord gitar untuk lagu "P.i.m.p - Mrciberluck Lyrics" yang dinyanyikan oleh Toton M mrciberluck. 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 P.i.m.p - Mrciberluck Lyrics Berikut Dibawah ini untuk Selanjutnya.walk in the bar like i’m f*cking the man
stealin a b*tch ‘n i’m starting a fight
loading the gun ‘n i’m drinking the gin
she rubbin my glock like it’s 10 outta 10
callin’ me the captain like i’m the man
robbin’ this club like it’s pulp fiction
stealin’ the house ‘n i put in my van
runnin’ for life before it began
knife in the back ‘n it’s gettin’ real sad
death is be rising i’m runnin’ for life
trustin’ a b*tch i just met cause her ass ass ass ass be fat
daddy issues be just my type
look at those wrists she’s just lookin’ right
just one look i take her home
i f*ck yo b*tch don’t walk her home
satan is the reason why
i just wanna make em die
b*tches askin’ “why, ciber?”
’cause it’s all about the luck
never test me i don’t play
burn in h*ll we’ll make you fry
if you wanna minimize
you’ll end up as the f*ckin prize
satan is the reason why
i just wanna make em die
b*tches askin’ “why, ciber?”
’cause it’s all about the luck
never test me i don’t play
burn in h*ll we’ll make you fry
if you wanna minimize
you’ll end up as the f*ckin prize
gotta clear my head, hot like a knife
grip is too tight, hand started crampin’
it’s why i dont write, clip is already in
trigger pressed with you in my sights
fake ones called, left their ass a note
wall to wall, broke b*tches don’t float
imprints of your brain in my sidewall
pimp sh*t till i fall
pimp sh*t, real sh*t
don’t need no hoes
got the clique
suicide doors, no feelings
no more writing
everyone on my list is dead
don’t need no hoes
got the clique
suicide doors, no feelings
don’t need no hoes
got the clique
don’t need no hoes
got the clique
only time you got
is the time on my watch
bag of dime, if you hit mine
watch your head drop
red like i’m kurama
cloak like saitama
fl!ck of the wrist
rock your sh*t
like my last names smith
pimp sh*t
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