lirik lagu rest in peace – dc the don
[intro]
(astro on the beat)
d*mn n*gga, what the f*ck?
(ayy, this is a trademark production)
ayy
[verse 1]
boom*boom*pow when this sh*t get loud
n*ggas love to pop out when it’s hot out (what?)
bro kick, bruce lee [?]
’cause we carry chopsticks when the opps out
i been on the east with some knucklehead n*ggas and some motherf*cking white boy dropouts
i don’t f*ck with no 9s [?]
pop up at his house, put his ass to sleep
shorty shaking ass, clap it to the beat
they say, “daij, why you ain’t never on the east?” ayy
well, you a bird, b*tch, all the f*ck you do is tweet (get the f*ck off my d*ck)
[chorus]
glock in his mouth now he can’t talk (where he at?)
bullets hit his body now he can’t walk (yeah)
brodie switching sides, where the white chalk? (where the f*ck?)
solid than a b*tch, never took a loss, ayy
[verse 2]
astro draw the blood, t**zo rest in peace
all up on my d*ck, i swear you n*ggas sweet
ayy, shawty finna wild out, think i’m finna ride out
said you got the [?] we can slide out
don got a tank, h*ll yeah, i’ma [?]
doing all that sh*t for a motherf*cking shoutout
gettin’ on my motherf*cking nerves
point his ass out, it’s a broke n*gga alert (point him out)
make a f*ck n*gga bite down on the curb
i’ma k!ll that n*gga’s kid, you know that n*gga daij disturbed
i’m in the club and i’m off it
i’m in your dentist, i’m flossing
toss up your set, b*tch, we moshing
big chop on the bottom of that b*tch
my lawyer said we got a case, get it dismissed
big roro called on the phone, lil’ bruh p*ssed
these n*ggas in the east tryna break back in my sh*t
lil’ bruh, i hit you, f*ck you doin’? bruh, i’m sick
i got a pack that need to be shipped
we got them racks, we banging the six
n*ggas [?] just tryna get rich
burberry tee with an audemars wrist
i don’t gotta talk ’cause the b*tch gon’ glist
bow*chika*wow*wow, ding*dong ditch
hit a n*gga, hit a n*gga, one time diss
got two sticks on me, lilo and stitch
uh, p*ssy n*gga, i’m hit your ass with a combo
ballin’ on these n*ggas, pass your b*tch like i’m rondo
i got thirty*thousand f*cking racks in my condo
eating eggs benedict, b*tch, where my cilantro?
it’s gon’ f*cking rain all season, where your poncho?
h*lla cheese in my f*cking pocket and it’s not yours
east side 11, b*tch
big talk stepping, b*tch
make the chopper sing, john legend, b*tch
east side n*ggas know what i’m repping, b*tch, don’t walk up to my section
[chorus]
glock in his mouth now he can’t talk (where he at?)
bullets hit his body now he can’t walk (yeah)
brodie switching sides, where the white chalk? (where the f*ck?)
solid than a b*tch, never took a loss (facts)
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