Musica de Suicideboys del Genero: Hip Hop Todos los artistas y cantantes de música de Hip Hop son individuos talentosos y apasionados que dedican su vida a crear y compartir su arte con el mundo. Su música de Suicideboys tiene el poder de emocionarnos, inspirarnos y conectarnos a un nivel profundo. En este blog FoxMusicaDe, exploraremos el mundo de los artistas y cantantes de música del genero Hip Hop, destacando su dedicación, creatividad y contribuciones a la cultura.
Los artistas y cantantes de música tienen la capacidad única de expresar sus emociones y experiencias a través de su voz y talento musical. A través de sus letras y melodías, nos llevan a un viaje emocional y nos permiten conectarnos con nuestras propias emociones.
Además de su talento musical, los artistas y cantantes son verdaderos profesionales en su campo. Trabajan arduamente para perfeccionar
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Magnolia Lyrics
“Magnolia” marks a switch-up from the nostalgic and gentle themes shown throughout the album, featuring the legendary Floridian KirbLaGoop. The song was previewed live in early-2015 at a show in San Antonio… Read More [Verse 1: Trap House $crim]
Work, ridin' in the 3rd with the all black tint (What?)
Smoke one, ho, get high with a pimp
Kick the front door, bitch, better bust down
Sippin' on dip while we break down the loud (Work)
Just know one thing, I don't fuck with nobody (Nah)
Case full of shells, with a twelve-gauge shotty (Pow)
Trap House $crim, bitch, I could give a fuck
Ridin' 'round town with the nine on tuck
Never hesitate if I gotta go and bust (What?)
Dare a motherfucker to try and act tough (What?)
Hunnid motherfuckers that's all ready to rush
Hunnid motherfuckers that's dyin' to light 'em up (Grrah)
Live from the land where you six feet deep
Before you even die, just standin' on your feet
Gold teeth with a grin that'll make a bitch wet
5-0-4, keep the choppa on flex
[Verse 2: 7th Ward Lord]
Bitch, I'm from New Orleans, ayy
7th Ward Lord cuttin' guts with a sword
Yung Mutt 'cause I'm half-fucking-foreign, ayy
Gimme the blunt, bitch, you wastin' all the weed
Pass it 'round, use my lungs as the storage, ayy
Pitbull in the yard, stay away from my gate
That's a motherfucking warnin', ayy
Twenty-inch spokes like a platinum switchblade, ayy
Ice on my wrist, help the swellin' go down from the slit
You can find me in the motherfucking tank, ayy
Five-hunnid degrees, four dollar signs
Dial up my line, I'm on the East Bank, ayy (Brr, brr)
Suicide, left the blood from my shank
*59 Yin Yang, ayy
[Verse 3: KirbLaGoop]
Hunnid thou', hunnid thou', suicide (Suicide)
Who you think you fuckin' with? You done lost your mind (You done lost your mind)
Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom (Duh-duh-duh-duh-duh)
That's all you hear when I step in the room (Ha-ha-ha)
Boy, I jugg (Jugg, jugg), you can check my right wrist (Check my wrist)
Every day in the kitchen, watch me flip (Yeah, yeah)
I can cook (I can cook), Betty Crocker (I'm a baker)
Got them cakes and I serve pills like a doctor (I got prescriptions)
I'm on the corner (On the corner), fuck the corner (Man, fuck that shit)
I'm in the house, servin' weed like a farmer (I'm a farmer John)
I got crops (I got crops), long-ass crops (Long-ass crops)
And I got hoes, I got them bops (I got them bitches)
Hunnid thou', hunnid, hunnid, hunnid thousand (Hunnid, hunnid)
Don't try us, we just start wylin' (Uh-uh)
$uicideboy$ with the Kirb (Kirb), what you talkin'? Absurd (Absurd)
Tryna try us, what we gon' do? Put your brains on the curb (Woo, woo)
No play, all day in F-L-A (Don't play, bitch)
You can try that shit, I'll put your face on a t-shirt today, damn