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letra de don't breathe - d. lynch

[hook]
godd-mn, godd-mn, y’all be f-ckin’ my plans up
(god, god, god)x3

[verse 1]
should i k!ll myself tonight?
yeah, just might, just might
i’m walkin’ down your street creepin’ with the lead pipe
bashin’ out the headlights, nothin’ in my head right
gotta blade, i can’t wait to shove down ya windpipe
for any problem i can show you what these fists like
but i play with pistols i bring ’em to a fist fight
i’ll show you pain in the best light, best night
small incisions have you bleedin’ ’till ya chest tight
somehow i don’t fit the mold now
for any f-ggot sayin’ that i sold out
f-ck you b-tch your daddy should’ve pulled out
poppin pills like he straight swervin when he rolled out
ya’ll about to spark up the flame now
can’t stand y’all like prosthetic legs now
don’t feel safe inside my own space now
joell ortiz probably gonna punch me in my face now
blind inside my frenetic rage
i got a nine in mind for all the comments behind my face now
how they say i ain’t the truest now?
call me lsd, you’re under my influence now
i ain’t doing no shows or no autographs
f-ck ya d-mn clubs, b-tch we ain’t talkin none of that
for every time you dragged my name through the dirt
nobody moves, nobody gets hurt

[hook]
godd-mn, godd-mn, y’all be f-ckin’ my plans up
(god, god, god)x3

[verse 2]
despite all my rage
i’m a rat in a cage
i got a bat and some mace
i got a gat and a cade
i got a knack for getting mad
i’ll flatten your face
you got a bad ego fam
you ain’t built for this place (huh)
mad as f-ck, tell me how the bottom’s been
got a couple bucks, a handful of klonopin
talking shit now huh, there’s a lot of them
throwing dirt on every turn, i guess there’s a problem then
finally got a deal son, think i’m buying bottles
poppin collars, shallow b-tches jockin, think they gettin dollars
i don’t give a f-ck about your na na na cootchy
flaunt it, yeah you gotta gotta
herpes on your pussy walla wallas
you don’t want this drama, you don’t want this problem
got a few hitters waiting for me to call em
loading rounds posted with the llama
a rage called karma
drives bys on a familiar block
waiting for your mama
i don’t play around mother f-cker
infiltrate your whole crew waiting undercover
i be riding to your crib riding shotty with a shotty
better pray to god, on everything
i swear i’m out here trying to catch a body
f-ck a drug deal homie, bringin pain with the work
hit you with a bottle double shots you get murked now
for every time your drug my name through the dirt
nobody moves, nobody gets hurt

[hook]
godd-mn, godd-mn, y’all be f-ckin’ my plans up
(god, god, god)x3

- d lynch

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