Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Shooters, artist - Yulian.
Date of issue: 18.04.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: Spanish
Shooters(original) |
La Mafia The Creator |
Yeah, yeah |
Yulian |
MAFIA (brr, brr, yeah) |
Aprendan mis hijo |
Tengo tiradore' arriba el rufo, papeles verde sin identidad |
Caja de bala que ya no uso, mucha de alta calidad |
Tengo tiradore' arriba el rufo, papeles verde sin identidad |
Caja de bala que ya no uso, mucha de alta calidad (brrrr) |
Tengo tiradore' arriba el rufo, papeles verde sin identidad |
Caja de bala que ya no uso, mucha de alta calidad (brrrr) |
Tengo tiradore' arriba el rufo, papeles verde sin identidad |
Caja de bala que ya no uso, mucha de alta calidad |
Cuando salimo' yo siempre abuso porque a mi me gusta to la ropa italiana |
El Ziploc lleno de verde tirao' en la cama |
Por el tejido cubano parezco de La Habana |
Presidende a lo Obama (ma boss) |
Te dice que ta' en su casa y me llama |
Conocen el de cali' son pura colombiana |
Con lo bolo y la cadena pichando en la mañana |
Negro hablamo mañana (swerve) |
Tengo que me odia y me ama |
Ahora que me duermo uno no sabe mañana |
Lo cocolo moreno que a ti te pasan la plana |
Me olvide por la Xanax (gang) |
(translation) |
The Mafia The Creator |
yeah yeah |
Yulian |
MAFIA (brr, brr, yeah) |
learn my son |
I have a shooter above the rufo, green papers without identity |
Bullet box I no longer use, lots of high quality |
I have a shooter above the rufo, green papers without identity |
Bullet box that I no longer use, a lot of high quality (brrrr) |
I have a shooter above the rufo, green papers without identity |
Bullet box that I no longer use, a lot of high quality (brrrr) |
I have a shooter above the rufo, green papers without identity |
Bullet box I no longer use, lots of high quality |
When we go out I always abuse because I like all Italian clothes |
The Ziploc full of green tirao' on the bed |
Because of the Cuban fabric I look like I'm from Havana |
Preside like Obama (ma boss) |
He tells you that he is at his house and he calls me |
They know the one from Cali' they are pure Colombian |
With the gig and the chain pitching in the morning |
Black talk tomorrow (swerve) |
I have to hate me and love me |
Now that I fall asleep one does not know tomorrow |
The brown cocolo that they pass the flat to you |
I forgot for the Xanax (gang) |