Scarface - You Don't Hear Me Doe Lyrics
[dmg]Call me psychotive but i'm bad, nigga yo!And i'ma do ya bad, blackAnd when i come, i'm bustin up niggas to hear me, blackYa should of never let a nigga seeIf there was niggas and *****es and *****es and niggas that hated meHuh, i waited for my date to come-of-ageAnd now i'm of-age i can't escape the *****in front pageSo i guess that nigga d is up to hit againI kicks the funky shit and coke, and stupid like i'm gilliganI'm p, supposed to hit a lick for a jackThe only thing i gained is the pain of niggas comin backNigga lookin for they shit, aggravated and pissedNiggas they can't ***** with my cliqueI'm here to break em off for chunkA d-e-a-t-h-l-y, a mother*****in punkAnd i be rollin with the brassDon't answer with the ziggers in your hood, he break your neck to roll aPass, niggaDon't even stop to say 'whattup?' cos i bust for the *****And pay some quick to light a mother*****er upNext time you stop me on your block, i hope you leave the placeOr be the next to meet the lord face-to-faceNigga, i ain't the one to take no bullshitCos see a nigga like the d is game to empty out the full clipSo when i come for ya, act like ya knowSittin mother*****in smooth to the curb but you don't hear do'Chorus:I'ma bring ya to ya ***** (uh)Do it like the g-to-o (yeah)Bustin on that ass but still i see that you don't hear me do'(but you don't hear me do')Bring ya to ya ***** (uh)Do it like the g-to-o (yeah)Bustin on that ass but still i see that you don't hear me do'[dmg]It's time to ***** em up, here it comes, blast, nigga!Thump to your chest and they comin out your ass, niggaI grew apart, livin my life as a criminalNiggas g to kill but still i see that you don't hear me do'So i'ma serve it to ya fat, hit the deck, mateHit the deck mate, call me flipper when i checkmateD-um divertin nine, tre-9, full glock, glockMy glock makin sounds and it don't stopSo nigga pass the swisha quickAnd i'ma blaze til the mother*****er burn me off my fingertipsCos, see a nigga gotta saty highI try to smoke til i can't smoke and then i won't smokeBut still i got my fingers on my shitAnd click, click, click, ya die, die, die, ya dead, *****!You tried to test the wrong nigga, be a testedStraight from st.paul but clockin g's down in texasSome think i'm talk cos i play it coolBut i ain't the average mother*****er, i do the shit that niggas won't doHuh, like pistol whip a woodie for his bankThen after that i gate and grab his ***** and do the same thangAnd i will pain up the *****Collectin grips on my drips as i stroll but you don't hear me do'Chorus[dmg]Ain't no mistakin what i'm bringin, you mother*****ers still ain't hadEnoughSo i'ma continue to break you off for proper ass chunkMay it be 9, may it be a gauge, may it be a shankAny way you come i'm in your mother*****in shit, mate!Huh, a nigga bustin caps, smokin firesQuick to bring it to your ass and keep on goin til your ass dieAnd it ain't no runnin down dem backstreetsCos i got slugs to catch em with carl lewis on the track meetHuh, and still you wanna test a nigga soAudi 5, nigga, hate to see ya go but you don't hear me do'ChorusYeah, check it!
