We Don't Care (featuring Cuban Link) (Explict) (Feat. Cuban Link)

"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 Humer 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 you.S. Navy You ain't crazy, laid up in the club like what? With all the ladies, showin us nothin' but love Guzzlin eighty, 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] 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 hah!) 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! (nah hah!) 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, 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 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 ? this mug shit [Chorus] Uh Yeah Big Punisher Cuban Link Terror Squad Y'all wanna party? gon' party our way Anything goes The code of the streets, what what? "