We Don`t Fuck Wit` That — текст песни (The Click)

(B-Legit)
Ya see I`m nuttin` but a player call me bad news bear
And everywhere a nigga go you know I check a hoe there
And on my second time thru, you know how I do
I get some head, and some ends and I`m gone by 2
I got soundcheck bitch, the shows is at 6
So when you coming in, bring your womanfriends
I got a few dogs posted at my telly
D-Shot, Tap, Young Mugz and Celly
And we gone try to tear the fuckin` roof of something
We was backstage smokin` and some hoes was thumpin`
A bitch got mad cause she didn`t get chose
Reached back like a pimp and slapped the hoe
Your nigga went wild when he first seen that
Pulled out a sack and rolled one fat
We was back to the tale cause we bail on them boyz in blue
Fuckin` wit this Click crew
And the worst things that happens when your out of the state
They lock a nigga down and take away his dank
It makes me can`t thank, I gets nervous and sick
Fiendin` for a motherfuckin` fix

Chorus:
(E-40)
Smoke and we will go
Puffin` on indo
So put that back
Cause we don`t fuck wit that

(B-Legit)
I left Minnesota cause the spot was tired
Hit Louiville and the spot was fire
Old school sittin` on straight laced kicks
Reminding me of 1986
Fools burnin` rubber, fuck some switches
Niggas from the bay smokin` up on bitches
B was on the gash, smashin` yo
Hoes passin` out cause there to much smoke
Gary, Indiana, bitch gone in a minute
I let you hit my weed and it`s straight up shittin`
In your draws, Guess jeans and all
And then you had no one, give E a call
But he called back and wasn`t fuckin` wit you
Cause hoes down South know good voo-doo
Fuck around and have your ass sprung like Eddie
Period blood mixed in your spaghetti
And if I could I would roll a vega
>From Hillside, Cali to the Get Low Playaz
You niggas light it for me and I`m pass it to Quinn
And let it out when you get to chin

Chorus

I`m finally hittin` Cali after 3 weeks gone
Than ran out of boomb and I`m glad to be home
Now who on my phone, Dante or Bruce
I be there in a minute to do what we do
See, it`s a triviant game, cause we gone smoke
And blow big dubs from young body and all
And I can`t give a fuck if you`re drunk or smoked
Imma give you a 5 we gone light the ...
In to the ... told the shit on the street
Some of tha homies that be restin` in peace
The shit won`t cease till I see D
I know my homie got a fat blunt for me
Pine apple juice, malibu rum
1501 get your dickhead done
When it gets like that, you know I gots to fuck
Or maybe kcikback and get my dickhead sucked
I won`t ask for much, just ass and guts
And brand new speakers for my oldschool cut
A big fat sack of that dohja
So I can get smokin` like I`m `posed to

Chorus



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