Dirtyconfession.com

I need a gun to keep myself from harmThe poor people are burning in the sunBut they ain’t got a chanceThey ain’t got a chanceI need a gunCos all I do is danceCos all I do is danceI need a gun to keep myself from harmThe poor people are burning in the sunNo, they ain’t got a chanceThey ain’t got a chanceI need a gunCos all I do is danceCos all I do is danceIn my backpackI got my act rightIn case you act quite difficultAnd yo is so weakin’With anger and discontentSome are seeking and searching like me, moiI’m a peace-loving decoyReady for retaliationI change the whole occasion to a pine box six-underImpulsive don’t ask wild wonderOrders given to me is:strike and I’m thunder with lightning fast reflexes on constant alertfrom the constant hurt that seems limitless with no dropping pressureSeems like everybody’s out to test ya’til they see your brakeThey can’t conceal the hateThat consumes youI’m the reason why you flipped your soosaChill with your old lady at the tiltI got a 90 days digitAnd I’m filled with guiltFrom things that I’ve seenYour water’s from a bottlemine’s from a canteenAt night I hear the shotsRing so I’m a light sleeperThe cost of life,it seems to get cheaperout in the desertwith my street sweeperThe war is overSo said the speaker with the flight suit onMaybe to him I’m just a pawnSo he can advanceRemember when I used to danceMan, all I want to do is dance(Dance!)(x3)I need a gun to keep myself from harm