Lyrics Don't Make Me - Lee Scott

Don't Make Me

I don’t want to have to, but I will
Trip, crush and kill the mood
Like it’s sound to do, this goes out to you
Don’t make me do what I’m about to do
I don’t want to have to, but I will
Trip, crush and kill the mood
Like it’s sound to do, this goes out to you
Don’t make me do what I’m about to do
Don’t judge a book by it’s dumb words
Or fuck with the half Scouse, half wool lirds
Sunny Boyz cold get dumb and cull nerds
And boast about robbing the post office to pull birds
I don’t give a fraction of an ounce of a fuck
It’s an accident I’m on this planet like Howard the Duck
And playing me is the last option of Draughts boxin'
I’ll make you cry while your Dads watchin'
Pop a chill pill, still flip and kill the fly on the wall
I liked you better when I didn’t like you at all
Give me a sleazy hotel room to breathe
I drop an uplifting hell tune and leave
Before I start the rant that never ends
Altruistic, towards me imaginary friends
The Nafco 54 clique are raw
I’ll make you wish you had your foot in a different door
I don’t want to have to, but I will
Trip, crush and kill the mood
Like it’s sound to do, this goes out to you
Don’t make me do what I’m about to do
I don’t want to have to, but I will
Trip, crush and kill the mood
Like it’s sound to do, this goes out to you
Don’t make me do what I’m about to do
Do I keep sonning rappers cause I’m dad-less?
I raised me eyebrows as a couple of crooked bastards
Looking down on mother earth eating barbecued Wookie ribs
Like it’s my world lad fuck your dibs
I’m the man if you’re missing an idol
God’s speed, sniffing wiz off a bible
I use an unsold album as a beer mat
Drown me sorrows and hold me gangster tears back
Cause I want a castle with guard dogs and a moat
And I’m choked with a poisoned dart frog in me throat
But there’s still hope, this is rap and it’s big biz
And I’m keeping «it» real but don’t ask me what «it» is
Rappers these days are a bunch of Hyacinth Bucket’s
But don’t worry they’re just going through a phase
While Mr. Wrong’s pissing in your bong changed
Hungarian suicide song on, whistling along
I don’t want to have to, but I will
Trip, crush and kill the mood
Like it’s sound to do, this goes out to you
Don’t make me do what I’m about to do
I don’t want to have to, but I will
Trip, crush and kill the mood
Like it’s sound to do, this goes out to you
Don’t make me do what I’m about to do