Dead or Alive (ENG) (Remix)

Thamen Mc

Mateus Raffiel (L.O.K.I)

Thamen Mc

Trap, folk-aternative, progressive rock, banjo, harmonica, ambient, caotic, hit

V4.5+

If you're looking for a sound that challenges the mind and touches the soul, you've found your artist. Check out your playlist and listen to the stories that need to be told:

https://suno.com/playlist/00501996-cd7d-45fa-89c2-a2ce15a76397

📜🖋️🎙️📜🖋️🎙️📜🖋️🎙️📜🖋️🎙️📜🖋️🎙️📜🖋️🎙️📜🖋️🎙️

[Intro]
Born out where ain’t no roof, nothin’ but the sky,
Pa rode off early, Ma was left to cry.
She tried her hand again, but life’s a crooked hand,
Soon she laid down… step-pa left me in no man’s land.

From the heart o’ the dust, no roof, no claim,
The world made me cold, but it taught me the game.
Ain’t no hugs in the dark, just my shadow ridin’ near,
Learned young… love’ll get ya killed if you ain’t packin’ steel, my dear.

[Verse 1]
They done called me a vigilante, even a black-hat son,
But I aim my iron where it hurts, and I don’t miss none.
“Y’seen my poster nailed up down the trail?
Breathe easy, partner… you ain’t seen the full tale.”

That wheel spins, lead’s ready to bite,
Finger on the trigger, devil’s grin in the night.
One crack o’ my Colt, and the town goes still,
BILLY THE KID — the ghost ridin’ for the kill.

[Pre-Chorus] (beat drops, slow drawl)
Stare in my eyes, feel your bones turn cold,
Hear that click? Best believe your soul’s been sold.
Bootsteps in the dust, my shadow’s on your track…
When I raise my iron, there ain’t no talkin’ back.

[Chorus]
Pha-phoom-tí, kapa! [gunfire sounds]
Name’s Billy the Kid, and you ain’t ridin’ away,
My iron’s the judge, my aim’s the law,
Best watch your step, ‘cause in this land I’m the draw.

You best tip your hat,
Or you’ll find where the buzzards at.
If you grin at my face… it’s gonna be —
Pha-phoom-tí, kapa! [gunfire sounds]

Name’s Billy the Kid, and you ain’t ridin’ away,
The whisper o’ my bullet on your neck’ll play,
My sight’s dead true, your head might just fly —
Best start prayin’… or die standin’ high.

[Verse 2]
Six-shooter’s holstered, but my mind’s ridin’ hot,
Vengeance is a stew… best served from the pot.
Swore to my guardian, with blood as the brand,
If I stain this saloon, let hell take my hand.

Don’t matter how many I send to the ground,
If not today, then someday you’ll be found.
And even if the years try to slow my rein,
In the valley o’ shadows… I’ll call your name.

[Bridge] (dark, story-teller tone)
When the night’s dead quiet, only the wind keeps pace,
Every mile I ride, I’m haunted by a face.
Ghosts from the past, callin’ from the dark,
But all I hear’s the drum… and the thunder’s mark.

Dust starts risin’, the red sky bleeds,
And them that swore betrayal… won’t plant no more seeds.

[Final Chorus – explosive]
Pha-phoom-tí, kapa!
Name’s Billy the Kid, and you ain’t ridin’ away,
My iron’s the judge, my aim’s the law,
Best watch your step, ‘cause in this land I’m the draw.

You best tip your hat,
Or you’ll find where the buzzards at.
If you grin at my face… it’s gonna be —
Pha-phoom-tí, kapa!

3509/7500

📜🖋️🎙️📜🖋️🎙️📜🖋️🎙️📜🖋️🎙️📜🖋️🎙️📜🖋️🎙️📜🖋️🎙️ Meet L.O.K.I. — The Poetic Voice of Conceptual Trap. L.O.K.I. transforms trap into literature. His lyrics are chronicles of the modern soul, exploring the complexity of human emotions with brutal honesty and a sharp pen. From the shadows of history to the dilemmas of humanity, his songs are an invitation to reflection. If you're looking for a sound that challenges the mind and touches the soul, you've found your artist. Check out your playlist and listen to the stories that need to be told: https://suno.com/playlist/00501996-cd7d-45fa-89c2-a2ce15a76397 📜🖋️🎙️📜🖋️🎙️📜🖋️🎙️📜🖋️🎙️📜🖋️🎙️📜🖋️🎙️📜🖋️🎙️ [Intro] Born out where ain’t no roof, nothin’ but the sky, Pa rode off early, Ma was left to cry. She tried her hand again, but life’s a crooked hand, Soon she laid down… step-pa left me in no man’s land. From the heart o’ the dust, no roof, no claim, The world made me cold, but it taught me the game. Ain’t no hugs in the dark, just my shadow ridin’ near, Learned young… love’ll get ya killed if you ain’t packin’ steel, my dear. [Verse 1] They done called me a vigilante, even a black-hat son, But I aim my iron where it hurts, and I don’t miss none. “Y’seen my poster nailed up down the trail? Breathe easy, partner… you ain’t seen the full tale.” That wheel spins, lead’s ready to bite, Finger on the trigger, devil’s grin in the night. One crack o’ my Colt, and the town goes still, BILLY THE KID — the ghost ridin’ for the kill. [Pre-Chorus] (beat drops, slow drawl) Stare in my eyes, feel your bones turn cold, Hear that click? Best believe your soul’s been sold. Bootsteps in the dust, my shadow’s on your track… When I raise my iron, there ain’t no talkin’ back. [Chorus] Pha-phoom-tí, kapa! [gunfire sounds] Name’s Billy the Kid, and you ain’t ridin’ away, My iron’s the judge, my aim’s the law, Best watch your step, ‘cause in this land I’m the draw. You best tip your hat, Or you’ll find where the buzzards at. If you grin at my face… it’s gonna be — Pha-phoom-tí, kapa! [gunfire sounds] Name’s Billy the Kid, and you ain’t ridin’ away, The whisper o’ my bullet on your neck’ll play, My sight’s dead true, your head might just fly — Best start prayin’… or die standin’ high. [Verse 2] Six-shooter’s holstered, but my mind’s ridin’ hot, Vengeance is a stew… best served from the pot. Swore to my guardian, with blood as the brand, If I stain this saloon, let hell take my hand. Don’t matter how many I send to the ground, If not today, then someday you’ll be found. And even if the years try to slow my rein, In the valley o’ shadows… I’ll call your name. [Bridge] (dark, story-teller tone) When the night’s dead quiet, only the wind keeps pace, Every mile I ride, I’m haunted by a face. Ghosts from the past, callin’ from the dark, But all I hear’s the drum… and the thunder’s mark. Dust starts risin’, the red sky bleeds, And them that swore betrayal… won’t plant no more seeds. [Final Chorus – explosive] Pha-phoom-tí, kapa! Name’s Billy the Kid, and you ain’t ridin’ away, My iron’s the judge, my aim’s the law, Best watch your step, ‘cause in this land I’m the draw. You best tip your hat, Or you’ll find where the buzzards at. If you grin at my face… it’s gonna be — Pha-phoom-tí, kapa! Name’s Billy the Kid, and you ain’t ridin’ away, The whisper o’ my bullet on your neck’ll play, My sight’s dead true, your head might just fly — Best start prayin’… or die standin’ high.

0/500