Musica de Amuse del Genero: Lyrics Todos los artistas y cantantes de música de Lyrics son individuos talentosos y apasionados que dedican su vida a crear y compartir su arte con el mundo. Su música de Amuse 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 Lyrics, 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 su técnica vocal,
[Hook]
Stick and a Glock, I'ma creep
Good pack from my man down the street
Indian plug, he look like Baljeet
Walk in his house, put the Drac to his cheek
I serve every day, you serve every week
Got a beam on me, I might aim at your knees
Feds ask, then I speak Vietnamese
He not serving, he a baby boy like Tyrese
[Verse]
Yeah, feel like Mike Vick, I'm a dog fighter
Come to his stu and shoot him and his songwriter
Niggas hot, they at a bonfire
Hit your man with a Glock, now his jaw wired
That is not lean, that's apple cider
Cuz say he sent the location, got an app to find him
My niggas eating, ain't talking no appetizers
Glock with a knife, I ain't talking bout Michael Myers
Yeah, he not a plug, he a buyer
Big dog on me, sing like a choir
All white, now I'm Lizzie McGuire
Shot on him, pull off in a Viper
Walk down, I'ma creep like a spider
That nigga not trapping, that nigga a liar
I got bread, I ain't talking papaya
Skrrt off with a tinted ghost rider
Young nigga Margiela stepping, I ordered mine
Migo plug 'cross the borderline
Ransom note, I'ma tell him his daughter fine
We need the money, or it's slaughter time
I got a wock in the Vic, we ain't order wine
Gallon of goop, nigga got the water line
His man asked, we just shot him forty times
Trap nigga, we not selling quarter dimes
[Hook]
Stick and a Glock, I'ma creep
Good pack from my man down the street
Indian plug, he look like Baljeet
Walk in his house, put the Drac to his cheek
I serve every day, you serve every week
Got a beam on me, I might aim at your knees
Feds ask, then I speak Vietnamese
He not serving, he a baby boy like Tyrese