Damn (feat. Tech N9ne)

Dewey Da Don

Compositor: Dewey Da Don / Tech N9ne

Tech N9ne
It's the Don
Town business, damn! (Chyeah)

Calm down with that killa talk, we know you ain't a killa, boy
Froze up, he saw da Glock, but the chop the real McCoy
Fishscale, no re-rock, dog food in my catalog
Bought the house off one room, this a nice-ass kitchen, dog

Out the way and the money coming
Never seen, always into something
Pull up with this superbad, she 'bout to get hit like McLovin'
Navy seal, get a headshot, retro kicks on deadstock
Owing money, get his hand chopped, fuck around, get ya man’s knocked

Falling off? I never will
Home improve, I gotta drill
Told my bitch don’t make no bottles
Gotta half a brick in the Enfamil

Fuck you know 'bout stash spots?
Chopping cars at stash lots
Money trees from cash crops
Rap game in a headlock

Whip up a little water in it
Gotta movie, yo daughter in it
Fish bowl, no windows tinted
Blowing gumbo gas, it’s Creole-scented

Give away these nuts free, take yo ass to Five Guys
Frying all these fucking birds, they love that chicken like Popeyes
Branched off and franchised, bullshit get minimized
Started off with one key, turned that bitch to an enterprise

Solo might kill a witness, yo bitch sent you on a dummy mission
.40 cal, no dummies in it, just another day, just another nigga

Calm down with that killa talk
We know you ain't a killa, boy
Froze up when he saw da Glock
But the chop the real McCoy

We ready if you coming with the funk
And it's guaranteed we gon' hit ya good
Deep inside, I really wish a nigga won't
Even though I'm from the wish-a-nigga woods

'Cause if you come around and make bro go stupid
Talking loud like a do-do doofus
We stepping with the rojo, the fo' fo's and photo shoot shit
Fo' ever to funk in no mo' music

Spark the flame, we aim and trained to go
Darkness came, my gang got fangs to grow
Heartless pain you gain in anger, bro
Depart the lame, my thang got brains to blow

Shot ya mane, the bane became the ho
In a box for shaming, strange ya hang fa sho
Lots of fame when slain remain below
Stop the games and change the lane ya roll

I am no longer a pacifist, it is war that you have to get
'Cause I am into you, the masochist
Ain't no laughin', it's packin', assassin is fast and baggin' in packages
Under grass ain't the half of it

I'ma send you where your bible say the wicked evil masses is
Brimstone in your ashes, bitch
Hoping you have a blast looking at ass of a bath of me

For haters killin', Tech can still deploy
And if they succeeded, they would feel the joy
Whenever happen, because Dewey Da Don and the Midwest Chopper is the real McCoy

Last thing you hear (bam!)
Silence of you and silence of the (lamb!)
Making everything pause like I'm (can!)
Really scary things that make 'em say (dwamn!)
Err, I mean (damn!)

Calm down with that killa talk
We know you ain't a killa, boy
Froze up when he saw da Glock
But the chop the real McCoy

Tech N9ne
It's the Don