damu ridas (bloods) – we don’t give a (fuck nigga 2) كلمات اغاني
intro: ice cube & lil’ hawk:
nine_nine millimeter went (bang) to the temple!
we don’t give a f_ck, n_gga
verse 1: b_brazy:
gimme some tweed for my n_ggas, some drank for the hoes
a woop woop for the gang that, bang on figueroa
mr. blood brazy, hoover k!lla, all crabs die
go bustin’ when i’m drunk, (?) angry, stupid high
my bhakis hangin’ so low, i’m f_ckin’ up the creased cuffs
slangin’ rocks, rough and puff with no afro puffs
about this fly gangsta plane on lanes, i ain’t kiddin’
every rhyme that i say gon’ be hittin’, i ain’t bullsh_ttin’
i’m a b_dog in a b_doggy dog world
red nikes and red chucks, g’d up with the burl
hangin’ down my back, tootin’ on the sack
and twistin’, (?) on the daytons in my candy apple lac
chorus x2:
nine millimeter wеnt (bang) to the temple!
wе don’t give a f_ck, n_gga!
verse 2: pimp d:
come in the do’ with my flow for the west coast
i’m fits to gangsta that sh_t, i thought i told you so
yg pimp d, you know i’m pimpin’ for mine
and i’m still runnin’ from the mothaf_ckin’ one time
i’m shakin’ them, i’m breakin’ them, my d_ckies hangin’ low
i’m fit to blow up, i thought i told you so
it’s that gangsta sound, another platinum hit
i’m representin’ the westside, the yg’s gangstin’ that sh_t
biaitch, uhhh, you don’t wanna be
me, lil’ hawk, og eyes and sp
and like i told you, i fold you, and put you on yo’ back
and flip into my hood with a chronic sack (woo woo)
you little lolly_ass hoe
i be the dopest mothaf_cka, thought i told you so
yeah, 4 menace and i’m out
westside, inglewood, d_cks and nuts in your mouth
f_ck crabs!
chorus x2:
nine millimeter went (bang) to the temple!
we don’t give a f_ck, n_gga!
verse 3: peanut ii:
peanut ii in a luxury, i know y’all n_ggas miss me
blood, i just touched down from bustin’ on the rice krispies
i got my n_ggas wanna scr_p, the b_tch is on my lap
and my n_gga 88, with the mothaf_ckin’ strap!
denver lane is the hood like the 5 to the do’
hit us on d_mn figg, denver lane gangsta bloods!
f_ck bool fo’ real, and hth
and when i come through your hood, you better try to escape
_ ’cause i’m comin’ with the k and some brazy ygs!
so b_tch, get off the corner and leave your mothaf_ckin’ keys
it’s the l gang, n_gga, mr. yg peanut
denver lane gangsta bloods and we don’t give a f_ck
chorus x2:
nine millimeter went (bang) to the temple!
we don’t give a f_ck, n_gga!
verse 4: o.g. mad eye:
o.g. mad eye is about to flizzo
goldens on track comin’ down the fizzo
hittin’ ’em up, westside, as i gangsta glizzide
with my n_gga lil’ hawk, with the strap on his side
as we swoop and we woop, cmg’s on the block
_ og, yg
packin’ suits and glocks
_ it don’t stop
now i’m off in the wind
to get a dub sack and red ride to the brims
roll a fat blunt, and hit the road
hoppin’ like a toad, straight gettin’ blowed
_ hold up, stay off the nuts
crenshaw mafia gangstas and we don’t give a f_ck
chorus x2:
nine millimeter went (bang) to the temple!
we don’t give a f_ck, n_gga!
verse 5: spyder:
kan’t stop, won’t stop, i’m too f_ckin’ hard to quit
regulatin’ that sh_t, lettin’ the yah_yah spit
rip your mothaf_ckin’ meat, peep, blood, i ain’t the one to be
played like a lolly, you get beat like a drunk dumb
murder, death, k!ll with the g_ngb_ngin’ sk!lls i got
187 on a block, ain’t no one to see the dot
capped on the spot, guts all on the ground
f_ckin’ with them bloods out on to put the serve down
fool, you must be tweakin’ off some sh_t i don’t smoke
and i hope that you choke and catch cancer in the throat
you’s a dope flip_flop wit’ yo’ ass turned up
it’s westside cmg and, we don’t give a f_ck
chorus x2:
nine millimeter went (bang) to the temple!
we don’t give a f_ck, n_gga!
verse 6: lil’ hawk:
all crab_ass n_ggas, make way for the cmg
it’s that n_gga lil’ hawksta, 4 fingas and the b
crenshaw mothaf_ckin’ mafia, woop woop! (woop woop!)
as we swoop 4 deep in this mothaf_ckin’ coupe
deville, chill, how in the f_ck did you figure?
n_gga, c is for crab and k is for k!lla
so n_ggas, don’t even try to f_ck around
n_gga, i’m b_d_o_g’n and i’m not smokes the pound
i gets busy, snap, crackle, pop like rice krispies
so miss me with the drama and i don’t need the kids, sissy
f_ck crabs, and now you n_ggas know wassup
inglewood and south bentral n_ggas gives a f_ck
chorus x4:
nine millimeter went (bang) to the temple!
we don’t give a f_ck, n_gga!
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