a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

cyne - six shooter lyrics

[verse 1: cise star]
no, no, he’s so sleazy, falling for the take-back
middle cl-ss angst, couldn’t hold his daddy’s volvo
threw a d-mn fit like a kid, lay heart attack
called his momma “b-tch” and he threw down a lawyer tab
yeah, he a promised one. dualies on his ford truck
no fear, b-mper-sticker product of suburbia
daddy voted for bush. his son ain’t going to the war
f-ck that. watch bombs k!ll the other little ones
less unfortunate tricked into armed service
asked why they’re dying, they don’t even know the truth
death do us part. the richer and the poorer
opportunity knocks and missed on the other
one gets tax breaks. the other gets smothered
one gets tax breaks. the other gets smothered
so f-ck a band of brothers. it’s youth dreams of gutters
how you gonna use that college money if you dead, cousin?

[hook: cise star] (x2)
so look at these cowboys ready to pull six shooters
but when it’s time to shoot, they get another one to do it
playboy, cowboys, playboy, cowboys
playboy, cowboys, playboy, cowboys

[verse 2: akin yai]
now i got a lot on my mind (on my mind), so clear my head and make room
this cl-ss of ’99 love balloon goons
straight from the heart, y’all. join marine, let off
them kids got they brain washed off
rise while they excavate to find remains of
the dead enslaved in graves. i guess i made it
no blue, no red, or white. i’m great and native
i knew them stars and stripes were bright but faded
the man without a hat (hat) trying to dance safe
with no two-step, link, snap, clap, emanc-p-te
you, homie. homie. ‘cause i’m warning ya
this m. night team guerilla k!llers in columbia
so pardon me for not spitting the same old (same old)
i’ll die like a man before i spit like sambo
knowing jesús is k!lling us. them liquor stores too
newport shorts in box, cops, and pirus bloods
banging little rock. remember that sh-t?
aaron james had that baby glock and he flashed it
we was only fourteen (only fourteen) on some juv sh-t
but me, omar epps, quiet, kept produce spit

- cyne lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS