"We Don't Care" as written by Richard Frierson, David Llewellyn V Jones, Christopher Rios and Colin Blunstone....
Yeah, the foundation, l.G.P
Latins goin platinum baby!
Yeah yeah, yeah
Uh, year 2000
Terror squadians (terror squad)
We rock the party and (you won't like me when I'm angry)
(I guarantee you, you won't like me when I'm angry)
Yeah, yeah, yeah terror squadians
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (uh, yeah)
We rock the party and

Yeah! I tear the club up, pull up in the hummer with pun
My fuckin brother, makin motherfuckers run for cover
The number runner son, I'm nothin but a hustler
Burnin rubber with drugs, stuffed up in the muffler
Shut the fuck up! Bust a slug through your jugular
Plus suckers get fucked up with golf clubs, never front on us
T.s. Baby, straight out the b.X. Baby
So if they BS, we deeper than the u.S. Navy
You ain't crazy, laid up in the club like what?
With all the ladies, showin us nothin but love
Guzzlin 80, proof to truth, straight to the gut
In a mercedes, coupe fucked up doin a buck
If jakes chase me, I'm cuttin off trucks, pressin my luck
It's all gravy, puffin the blunt, blazin it up
Maybe you hate me, cause your baby mom's on my nuts
She wanna rape me, just because I'm sexy as fuck
So nigga what?

Tear the club up!
Cause we don't care
E'rybody strip
Yeah we don't care
Shoot the place up!
Yeah we don't care (nuh, ah)
We don't care (nuh, ah!)
We don't care!! (Nah!)
Yeah we don't care
Yes, yeah we don't care
Fuck you nigga!
Nah we don't care (nuh, ah)
We don't care (nuh, ah!)
We don't care!! (Nah!)

I'm livin in madness, given the spanish props
I got to have it
Loadin and bustin' up mad clips, gettin' up asses
Grabbin' the girls on they asses
Duck when the mac hits or be dead before your body falls
Cause when my shotty roars we ignore guiliani laws
My trigger got no heart nigga, I'm blowin apart liver
And holdin the glocks, call to the cops, I'm blowin the spot
Baby better head for the hills, my niggas wild for the night
My lead ready to peel this shit really real
My clip really filled, your chick better chill
My dick fit to kill, we fittin to ill
No survivors, frozen godivas or roses and flowers
Sour the grapes for those opposin the squaders
Thrown in the garbage, like funky pajamas, word to my junkie mama
I'mma keep it funky for homies livin tomorrow
You fuckin with scholars, street knowledge
Carter kids stuck to the projects
Go ahead keep checkin that mall
Me and cuban gon' keep doublin our chips
Keep talkin that dumb shit like you want it
Yeah when are you gonna buck shit
Wanted a slugfest, they want this ?? Mug shit

Big punisher
Cuban link
Terror squad
Y'all wanna party? Gon' party our way
Anything goes
The code of the streets, what what?

Lyrics submitted by Ice

"We Don't Care" as written by Coln Blonstone Christopher Rios

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

Lyrics powered by LyricFind

We Don't Care song meanings
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