We Don't Care
by Big Pun &
Lyrics and Meaning


Ratings

Song Lyrics


Song Meaning
Verse 1
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
Verse 2
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?
Verse 0
[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!)
Verse 3
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
Verse 4
[Chorus]
Verse 5
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?

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
Writer(s):Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, JELLYBEAN MUSIC GROUP
Copyright: CHRISTOPHER RIOS, COLN BLONSTONE, DAVID JONES, RICHARD FRIERSON



What's Your Interpretation?

No Thoughts or Song Meanings Yet

Be the first to leave a thought.

Related Blog Posts