Yeah, the foundation, LGP Latin's goin' platinum baby Yeah yeah, yeah Year 2000, Terror Squadians, Terror Squad You won't like me when I'm angry We rock the party and I guarantee you, you won't like me when I'm angry Yeah, yeah, yeah Terror Squadians Yeah, yeah, yeah, 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? Tear the club up 'cause we don't care Everybody 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 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 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, 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, 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'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 [Incomprehensible] this mug shit 02.15 Tear the club up 'cause we don't care Everybody strip, yeah we don't care Shoot the place up, we don't care, nuh-ah We don't care, nuh-ah! We don't care!! Nahhhahh! Now we don't care, T Squaders Now we don't care, fuck you nigga We don't care, nuh-ah We don't care, nuh-ah! We don't care!! Nahhhahh! Yeah, Big punisher Cuban link, Terror Squad Y'all wanna party? Gon' party our way Anything goes The code of the streets, what what? © EMI BLACKWOOD MUSIC INC.; YWI PUBLISHING INC; RONDOR MUSIC (LONDON) LTD (BMI); JANICE COMBS PUBLISHING INC; BKM PUBLISHING; Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com