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DC The Don – REST IN PEACE Lyrics

DC The Don – REST IN PEACE Lyrics

(Astro on the beat)
Damn nigga, what the fuck?
(Ayy, this is a Trademark production)
Ayy

Boom-boom-pow when this shit get loud
Niggas 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 niggas and some motherfucking white boy dropouts
I don’t fuck 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, bitch, all the fuck you do is tweet (Get the fuck off my dick)

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 fuck?)
Solid than a bitch, never took a loss, ayy

Astro draw the blood, Teezo rest in peace
All up on my dick, I swear you niggas sweet
Ayy, shawty finna wild out, think I’m finna ride out
Said you got the [?] we can slide out
Don got a tank, hell yeah, I’ma [?]
Doing all that shit for a motherfucking shoutout
Gettin’ on my motherfucking nerves
Point his ass out, it’s a broke nigga alert (Point him out)
Make a fuck nigga bite down on the curb
I’ma kill that nigga’s kid, you know that nigga Daij disturbed
I’m in the club and I’m off it
I’m in your dentist, I’m flossing
Toss up your set, bitch, we moshing
Big chop on the bottom of that bitch
My lawyer said we got a case, get it dismissed
Big RoRo called on the phone, lil’ bruh pissed
These niggas in the east tryna break back in my shit
Lil’ bruh, I hit you, fuck you doin’? Bruh, I’m sick
I got a pack that need to be shipped
We got them racks, we banging the six
Niggas [?] just tryna get rich
Burberry tee with an Audemars wrist
I don’t gotta talk ’cause the bitch gon’ glist
Bow-chika-wow-wow, ding-dong ditch
Hit a nigga, hit a nigga, one time diss
Got two sticks on me, Lilo and Stitch
Uh, pussy nigga, I’m hit your ass with a combo
Ballin’ on these niggas, pass your bitch like I’m Rondo
I got thirty-thousand fucking racks in my condo
Eating eggs benedict, bitch, where my cilantro?
It’s gon’ fucking rain all season, where your poncho?
Hella cheese in my fucking pocket and it’s not yours
East side 11, bitch
Big talk stepping, bitch
Make the chopper sing, John Legend, bitch
East side niggas know what I’m repping, bitch, don’t walk up to my section

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 fuck?)
Solid than a bitch, never took a loss (Facts)