| I know you don’t love me, you ain’t the same when Jay-Z's around
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| I know you don’t love me, you scream and holler when Eminem’s in town
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| I know you don’t love me, Snoop put me up on how the hoes get down
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| I know you like Nelly, like Kelly, Ludacris
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| Try to run game on me, you punk-bitch
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| I know you don’t love me
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| Gators and ostrich, you know the apparel
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| You could see my outfit on the Discovery Channel
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| I’m a stunner, my bitches trained like robots
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| They sniff coke, deep throat, and they hold out Glocks
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| It’s the brick-copper, the ounce chopper
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| 645 NASCAR driver that’s known to spit lava
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| I’m in Cancun, with a model in the bedroom
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| Her pussy tight like an airplane bathroom
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| Talk out your mouth piece, baby pah
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| The baby A-R will make it hot like South Beach
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| I move like, Bin Laden armed with them hammers
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| In that new Jag wagon, with James Bond vagrant
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| Medina all — red; |
| mira give me — head
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| Bad bitch, look like Eva Mendes
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| I’m a gangsta, general, comrade nigga
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| Drug money, blood money in a brown bag nigga
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| I know you don’t love me, you ain’t the same whenever Banks around
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| I know you don’t love me, you scream and holler whenever Usher’s in town
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| I know you don’t love me, see Dre put me up on how the hoes get down
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| I know you like Buck and that Dirty South shit
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| Try to run game on me you punk bitch
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| I know you don’t love me
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| I’m in the candy-painted Range, Cardier frame
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| Six-by-nines playing so I can hear e’ry thang
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| Heavy on the gas homie, hogging up two lanes
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| The navigation got me to where I’m gon' be staying
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| The trunk full of something that can get a nigga life
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| So my seatbelt’s on, and I’m stopping at the light
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| I done been to Queens before but not behind the wheel
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| I’m a country nigga, ain’t this many buildings where I live
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| But the business gotta be handled so where this coward at
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| We leave a couple niggas laying, bet them bitches holla back
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| Ever since Yayo been home it’s been on
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| Smacking niggas up, employers is getting sent home
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| On this battlefield, you know, it’s kill or be killed
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| Leavin niggas with bulletholes and hospital bills
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| This is how it is homie, La Costa Nostra
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| I won’t stop til I’m on a «Wanted» poster, motherfuckers
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| I know you don’t love me, you ain’t the same when Lil' Jon’s around
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| I know you don’t love me, you scream and holler when Slim Thug’s in town
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| I know you don’t love me, yeah Em put me up on how the hoes get down
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| I ain’t got time for a groupie-ass bitch
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| Try to run game and they ain’t about shit
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| I know you don’t love me
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| You should thank the Lord if the ray gon' getcha
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| Cause the sawed-off'll microwave a nigga like Adolf Hitler
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| Fuck pressure, I enter the ring calm
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| I’m nicer than them Japanese niggas in ping-pong
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| Look at my ring don, lease a 100 K worth of bling on
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| Smoking the same buddha as the courtroom shooter
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| I got the mind of a genius; |
| the rag-white Jag
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| Backhand like Venus', jab like Zab, and ya bitch
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| I’m making her knees knock in the lab
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| Nut on her, and send her to the weed spot in the cab
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| And I don’t hate all music, I just hate y’alls
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| And I hear you when you whisper, got the ear of Ray Charles
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| I’m ahead of my class fucker
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| And I only serve a bitch once, so they treat my dick like the Last Supper
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| Niggas calling out my name in vain
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| When someone jab to the jaw be they claim to fame
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| I know you don’t love me, you ain’t the same whenever Banks around
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| I know you don’t love me, you scream and holler whenever Usher’s in town
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| I know you don’t love me, see Dre put me up on how the hoes get down
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| I know you like Buck and that Dirty South shit
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| Try to run game on me, you punk bitch
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| I know you don’t love me, I know you don’t love me |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Don't Love Me, artist - Pimp C. Album song DJ Chill Presents Pimp C Trill Connection, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп