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 #

lirik lagu circle of tyrants - the four horsemen

yo, yo, yo
i been an outlaw and a gambler long as i can remember
drink whiskey from a bottle and always carry a banger
poker-faced womanizer, bank robber, and legend
my name ring bells across the frontier when i’m mentioned
when i step foot in the saloon i get a lot of attention
i reckon these haters are threatened by the strength of my weapon
the speed of my bullets, you want to taste the heater i’ll pull it
i’m a goon with the golden six-shooter and a mullet
four dead, jump up on top the bar then shout
if anybody else want drama then pop it off now
how many times this situation happened i can’t remember
so i turned twenty-one and got drunk with the bartender
gunslingers think they’re clint eastwood, i’m like jesse james
ride up on a pony, dump six in their face
twisting their frames like tumbleweeds, blister their brains
then bounce to the wh-r-house for more whiskey and things

like navajos and mayans, wrap the skin of tigers for battle
feeding the cows like josey wales, i hold it down with two barrels
back to the tarots, prost-tution rackets in paris
sippin’ cactus, dippin’ on stallions
my corduroys are blood-splattered
decapitated, my spurs carve like taxiderm
torch the mayor, jacked on his wife, and let his cabbage burn
numerous moonshine runs in kentucky
keep the powder up and a ten gallon in case i get lucky
old medicine man on his porch stare at commons
four hors-m-n, he riding through your prairie like shamans
close to the dream, shot up the voting machine, it’s progress
kidnap the senator’s daughter, penetrate her with objects
whiskey bottles and twist-offs, killers, no conscience
it’s either dead or in jail, it’s high noon for the convicts
the bl–dy sickle strapped to my chaps is conquest
it’s a glory rhyme, this battle hymn sung in a comp-ss

the hors-m-n are drawing nearer, on our leather steeds we ride
we’ve come to take your life
all through the dead of night, with the four hors-m-n, ride
or choose your fate and die

there’s no law, spitting phlegm on the floor
in clappin’, i’ll test you, skin that smoke wagon
see what happened
i’m tired of your gas, jerk that pistol and go to work
throw down boy, i’ll b-tchslap you till your lip-blood squirts
my aiming is more than precise when i slay men
we both got gats, let’s play for blood, just say when
let’s settle this so we’re crystal clear on who’s the nicest and fastest ever
i’m the deadliest pistoleer
there’s no future for dumbf-cks after my gun bucks
smooth when i’m maneuvering my six-shooter like nun chucks
shooting clowns in their faces, then drinks are on me
piano man, stephen foster. camptown races
i’m down to dump anywhere, i’m far from a punk
i got two guns, one for each one of you when i’m drunk
watch out when the squads out, don’t you ever try
to manhandle the cavel, we’ll cut your f—–g pimp’s heart out

o.k. coral style, shootouts at sundown
i’m taking ten paces, splatter faces with the rounds
quickdraw like will carver with the forty-four revolver
got a fist full of dollars once i started robbing harvard
the tombstone terrorist bucking down my nemesis
creeping in the crevices, a wanted man ever since
sixteen, blamed for the murder of a deputy
robbed thirty banks and they’re never close to catching me
draw and fire first, your destiny’s inside the dirt
cause my trigger finger’s faster than the hands of wyatt earp
i’ll stumble in a bar, guns and bourbon in my clutches
five card stud catching straights and raw flushes
wild bunch, hors-m-n, the fugitive outlaw
with double-barreled action, son i’ll shoot at you southpaw
young guns with toast out, always the most foul
riding through your streets, turn your hood to a ghost town

the hors-m-n are drawing nearer, on our leather steeds we ride
we’ve come to take your life
all through the dead of night, with the four hors-m-n, ride
or choose your fate and die

- lirik lagu circle of tyrants

Lirik lagu lainnya:

LIRIK YANG LAGI HITS MINGGU INI