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My Room (prod. Sabzi) - Nick buglione (dey Bishop) Lyrics

By: Admin | Artist: N nick buglione dey bishop | Published: 2024-01-10T11:24:20:00+07:00

Lirikku.ID - My Room (prod. Sabzi) - Nick buglione (dey Bishop) Lyrics: Halo Lirikku.ID, Dalam konten ini, kami menyediakan chord gitar untuk lagu "My Room (prod. Sabzi) - Nick buglione (dey Bishop) Lyrics" yang dinyanyikan oleh Toton N nick buglione dey bishop. 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 My Room (prod. Sabzi) - Nick buglione (dey Bishop) Lyrics Berikut Dibawah ini untuk Selanjutnya.

back to my room/
back to my craft, yeah, back to my doom/
back to the fact that my raps are fact
every pad that i had gets stacked with the truth
and they stacked to the roof/
should i rap ’bout the fact that my dad h-lla sick
and i just spent the week by his side in the hospital in the same pants
and i act not sad ’round my dad but in fact i could yak from this news/
or the fact that my cuz sold crack out the back of his pants on the ave for some cash
left my fam in a sham when a man pulled a gat on my cuz, he got bracked in his back to his tomb/
back to my room/
back to these raps that i craft cause they soothe/
better than a gram, better than a xan
whether the weather is worse or better with these letters that i hand in a tune/
back to my room/
back to my room, back to the fact that your real friends go hand over hand tryna manage your sadness, i won’t take advantage of fam, so i act not sad for the crew/
cause i love ’em-
shout to matty and kay, this sadness?-
tryna trump it, never was a fan of the blues/
back to my room, back back back to my room/

back to my room, honestly, i’m f-cking thrown/
but i’m socrates, high philosophies, i’m blunted though/
do this for my homies that got degrees, but caught the c-ck and squeeze on their alma mater street coming home/
we weren’t thugs, but we straight played along/
really cuba good, but had our ice cube face painted on/
rest in peace to my people who maybe ain’t made it home/
cause their color scheme, red or blue make gray grave stones/
in my room, watching rappers instagram flex
rich now but i know you used to be a frugal cat/
boy, kick the rocks, i hit the b-tches and hit the blocks that you f-ckboys were too scared to google map/

when i go and spit, i reach your soul and hit you/
every bar from the heart, every flow is a poem, got you holding tissues/
and my flows rip a whole through the solar system/
born where they sold dope out the volvo
hold a fo, cause the po po hold chrome, wake up, this is folgers roasting in a loaded pistol -bloaw/
yeah, they holding pistols/
but the way that a stray graze the face of a eight grader and second hand had his family in shambles
they might as well be throwing explosive missiles/
born where them fo fo’s pr-ne to hit you/
when your soul gone, homie, know them hoes won’t miss you/
got your mom, old, by your head stone, throwing rose, homies toast to your ghost, got ’em holding tissues/
now, lets get this sh-t wavy, kay got the loud, about an ounce’ll do/
my vision is hazy, you found my soundcloud, you found the dude/
swear dey is straight crazy, and if you play ’round, you clowns and fools/
you’ll be pushing up daisies, like gatsby face down inside the pool/
back to my room, back to this craft/
was sad for a tune, now i’m back on that -ss/
back to my room, back to my doom
back to the fact that my raps are fact every pad that i had gets stack with the truth
and they stacked to roof/
them rhymes and rhythms remind me, its my time to bomb now/
aligning these lines ease my mind, i shine and then i calm down/
talk to my dad, he say his life flash so fast/
he wonder why his boy only write raps so sad/
but then he heard my tape, heard the verse about him on the outro
it eased his mind, put a price tag on that/
your gun don’t pow pow, fakers, tryna sound bout gangsta/
on soundcloud, y’all are clowns like wow how dangerous/
while you’re loud mouth, brainless, i just crowd round stages/
and decapitate emcees after they bow down nameless/
but really rap is therapy/
my room is my sanctum, where no man compare to me/
every line’s an escape from my troubled home/
take my cards shuffle those, only with a couple flows/

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