We Don’t Give A Fuck

Lyrics

[Intro: Black Child & Tah Murdah] Yoooooo (Wha-what) Throw your motherfuckin middle fingers in the air, nigga (Wha-what, what) Cause if ya'll don't give a fuck, like we don't give a fuck Throw your motherfuckin fingers in the air [Verse 1: Tah Murdah & Black Child] Motherfucker, the war's on, we gon' pour it on, niggas to be feminine Guns rapidly sending them (Yoo) For the love of the Benjamins (Yoo) Keep em' leaking and bleedin' (Yaa) To dogs with his brawds trembling (Yaa) I'm sending him, till the LORD (Yaa, yoo) calls my adrenaline (I [?] ya'll niggas, Tah) You slow mo? Niggas getting slow dough? (Murder them now) Fuck the po-po, I let the fo' blow, ([?] blaow, blaow) keep em' runnin' like Flo-Joe I flow so sick, it's murda! (Fuck that) Clip Inserter! ([?] [?] [?] [?]) Drop, pop and ditch the burner We lust for more, cats plush, crush the raw (Get 'em!) Hit a club, we rush the door, (Murda them now!) nigga fuck the law (Blaow, blaow, blaow, die!) That's why we gon' blaze till we frozen up Hand grenades (Die, motherfucker, die!) to the precinct till they close it up I'm one in the mil, (Ya'll ain't real, we real!) niggas that be gunnin' for real (Ya'll ain't ready!) Leaving you numb from the steel, (Ya'll ain't ready!) so no pain to feel So fuck the world! Y'all eat a dick ([?] [?] [?] motherfucker!) When you see the [?] skating off on you, my thugs than your guns let off [Verse 2: Black Child & Tah Murdah, Both] I earned connections, every time (Yeah!) I burn my weapon Ya'll niggas gonna learn ya'll lesson (What!) Fuck the feds, nigga we spit hollow heads (Uh, uh, uh, uh) Our motto is shed blood, a dead thug That shed blood in hell, when my slugs set bail Pled to death from your cell, I hope Heaven got a jail From pretty niggas, with half a nickel flow (Yea, yea, yea, Black Child, motherfuckers!) Them bitch niggas, that think they dimes on the low Ya'll niggas is lame, commercial niggas get out the game We here now, shits gon' change (Murda) We spit them things, (Murda) from point blank range at you (Murda) Then ask "what the fuck you won' do?", test the mic or the gun? (Yea!) Lose your life and your ones? (What?!) I don't give a fuck where you from Niggas run when we come (Uh-huh) I bust my gun Cause I'm a bum from the gutter, you better know, it's Murda! Motherfucker! [Black Child & Ja Rule] Y'all ain't hear me? Y'all with me? (Huh?) Throw ya'll fuckin' fingers up, motherfucker Cause if y'all don't give a fuck (Yea) like we (Yea) don't give a fuck (Uh) Throw your motherfuckin' (Yea!) fingers (Yea!) in the air [Verse 3: Ja Rule] Nigga, I'm, living my live, fuckin' your wife Bending her up, while I'm hollering "I don't give a fuck" So I move like like it such, and ya'll can't get enough, of The Murderers here to murda y'all, nigga, what, what I know y'all are ready to die, know why Cause the pain is too much to bare while alive So I cock my nine, then close my eyes Take another hit of that crip and blow mind These are hard times, niggas hit the streets and bust blind Out of fear, out of despair, but never in the air We gon' take this, point blank range in your Range Rov Pistol whip the kids and rape your straight ho We the Murderers, yo, what you expect from us? We niggas you can't trust, that don't really give a fuck We dedicated to street life, game and hustle I don't wanna be white, I'm glad I'm black, I'm built for the struggle My niggas tote guns for hittin' you and your squad up Now we got the upper hand so keep your palms up Niggas, if you want it with Ja come in and line up Guaranteed, you'll be meeting your maker, your times up Negative, by the code of the streets we live Paper, for it niggas be murdering shit So what, what, niggas is hollering, yo, what up Murda Inc. is the movement that won't be touched Motherfuckers [Ja Rule & Vita] You hear me?! Murder Inc. niggas (It's Murda) Cause if you don't give a fuck like we don't give a fuck Throw your motherfuckin' fingers in the air! Niggas! [Verse 4: Vita] We don't give a what, what All of my ladies, it's all gravy, get your dubs up It's Murda, turn it up Plus, ain't nobody hotter than Totti so who you ridin' with? Ladies hating blatantly be hating 'cause they ain't hot as this Mrs. hot chick, straight to the top chick That'll chase you, strip you of your crown then replace you When I stay laced boo, in the top of the line in the finest designers from Fendi and Gabbana Players if you want it, I got it, just come and get it Thugs if you hustling, hustling, come and get it Mommy if you rolling with Totti, let's get this dough up We don't give a fuck, what