We Don’t Care Songtext
von Big Pun featuring Cuban Link

Yeah
The foundation
L.G.P
Latin′s gon' platinum baby
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Uh
Year 2000
Yeah
Terror Squad yeah
Terror Squad
You won′t like me when I'm angry
We rock the party yeah
I guarantee you
Yeah, yeah
You won't like me when I′m angry
Terror Squad yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
We rock the party 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, P.S. baby
Straight out the B.X. baby
So if the 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 the truth straight to the gut
In the 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
Baby you hate me, got your baby moms 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
Nah
We don't care
Nah
We don′t care
Nah
Yeah we don't care
T′s want it
Yeah we don't care
Fuck you nigga
Nah we don′t care
Nah
Nah we don't care
Nah
Nah we don't care
Nah

Yo, I′m leavin′ the madness, leavin' the Spanish
Props I gots to have it
Loadin′ the bustas with backflips
Takin' a pass just rammin′ the court to the asses
Duck when the mack hits
Or be dead before your body falls
'Cause when my shotty roars
It ignores Giuliani law
My trigger got no heart
Nigga I′m blowin' apart liver
And holdin' the Glock, holdin′ the cop
Blowin′ his spot, nigga better head for the hills
My niggas wild for the night, my lyrically pill
This shit really real, my clip really filled
Your chick really chilled, my clique really kill
We spittin' the ill, no survivors
Frozen cadavers and roses and flowers
Piled in the graves of those opposin′ the Squaders
Thrown in the garbage like funky pajamas
Word to my junkie mama
I'ma keep it funky for homies up in Elmira
You fuckin′ with scholars
Street knowledge scholars
Kids stuck to the projects
Go ahead keep chuggin' that molly
Me and Cuban gon′ keep doublein' our chips
Keep talkin' that thug shit
Like you ballin′ and you ain′t really goin' buck shit
Word to my son Chris
You don′t want this drama, this funk shit
Punk bitch

Tear the club up
'Cause we don′t care
Everybody strip
'Cause we don′t care
Shoot the place up
Yeah we don't care
Nah
We don't care
Nah
We don′t care
Nah
Yeah we don′t care
T's want it
Nah we don′t care
Fuck you nigga
Nah
Nah we don't care
Nah
Nah we don′t care
Nah

Uh, uh
Yeah, yeah
Big Punisher
Cuban Link
Terror Squad
Y'all wanna party
We′ll party our way
Anything goes
The code of the streets
What, what, what