Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song We Don't Care, artist - Cuban Link. Date of issue: 19.01.2022
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
We Don't Care |
| Yeah, the foundation, L.G.P. |
| Latins Goin Platinum baby! |
| Yeah yeah, yeah. |
| Uhh, 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 (uhh, 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 B.S., 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? |
| Chorus: Pun and Cuban Link |
| 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! (NAHHHAHH!) |
| Yeah we don’t care |
| T. Squaders |
| 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! (NAHHHAHH!) |
| Yo, I’m livin in mansions, give me the Spanish props |
| I got to have it |
| Loadin and bustin a mac, did shit in the past |
| Was ?? a fourth of 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 niggaz wild for the night |
| My lead ready to peel this shit really real |
| My clip fillity fill your chick with a chill |
| My dick quick to kill, we fittin to ill |
| No survivors, ?? Godivas or roses and flowers |
| Sour the grapes for those opposin the Squaders |
| Don’t ?? ??, like funky pajamas, word to my junkie mama |
| I’ma 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 |
| And me and Cuban gon' keep doublin our chips |
| Keep talkin that dumb shit like you want it |
| Yeah when are you gonna buck shit |
| ??? ???, ??? this mug shit |
| Uhh. |
| Yeah. |
| Big Punisher. |
| Cuban Link. |
| Terror Squad. |
| Y’all wanna party? Gon' party our way. |
| Anything goes. |
| The code of the streets, WHAT WHAT?. |