Cifra Club

I Don't Care... (feat. Lil Yachty)

LUCKI

Aún no tenemos los acordes de esta canción.

Uh, hey (grow up, nigga)

You don't love me like you say you did
The niggas who scream they don't lack just got caught without it
If it's my time to go, make sure I die with some class
These niggas love these hoes, stickin' trackers up they ass
I see a bitch I had hangin' 'round the stu', I laugh
You catch your ho with us, she bound to probably go out bad
You probably hit these hoes, I know these hoes make niggas mad
I can't go out my way, she'll find another, I can't bite the bait
14.5 for a crate, real Quagen seals, wouldn't do the fakes
I ain't beefin' with no rapper, I got shit to do
If you see me and its up, then gon' and do what you gon' do
Out here fuckin' on this bitch like I ain't fucked a ho in years
My closet big as Sears, I got so rich, shit bring me tears
I look at all my peers like: If I got it, then you got it
I looked at both my parents like I'm grateful that y'all fucked
My daughter said to me: Daddy, I hate when you ain't up
I sleep all through the day, late night them demons keep me up
A bitch ain't worth a dollar, I drop racks to Oregon Duck her
A nigga turn his back on me, by next Friday, he Chris Tucker
Solid nigga, got more stripes than seersucker
I'll shoot at my ex's mother, If she goin', I'ma fuck her
Cross me ain't no going back, It's stuck forever, I don't need you
Act just like I got amnesia: Never knew you, never seen you
Black shades, black limousine, uh
Black gun, black magazine, uh
Havin' fun with it, I'm a king, uh
Die hard fiend for that lean, uh
Uh, uh, I don't wanna meet my bitch daddy
I don't wanna make no bitch lil' brother happy
I don't sell dreams, I ain't into workin' magic
Known for gettin' weird bitches lit, I keep matches
If you switch and you die, be happy
She don't wanna abort it like I told her? I'm not the pappy
Them hoes online don't like me, I wanna fuck 'em anyway
I'm rich as hell, you think I care about your situation?

I don't
It's us

Ay, ay-ay-ay
I got money, I got bitches that'll kill for me
I got high and said I miss her, she said: Nigga, please
Rapper opp, I ain't gonna diss 'em, he could D-I-E
He gon' sell all out a concert with B-I-G
G23 a plastic pistol, blue T-I-P
Nigga, leave with one of these, shots at the king
Can't be fucked with and I'm GloGang, DrenchGang home team
That's my sneaky shit, she love me for the wrong thing
That's my sneaky shit, I never heard her phone ring
I got divas, I got strippers, said I'm bold for this
You can take it however you want, but its what it's supposed to mean
Forgiatos on the Track', we designed our home theme
Niggas think they got plot armor, but the show keep goin'
I got knives all in my back, only feel it if you sober
I got paid to blow for days, niggas in the way
Ayy, ayy
I got paid to blow for days, niggas in the way
Ayy, ayy
And I poured up by the ocean, these niggas say I'm boastin'
I did it by myself, a nigga wish he could've wrote it
Lotta Cash Tune, this shit way bigger than motion
Sent that ho a broom, she a witch and she know it
I bought another space ship, still drive it like it's stolen
I'm balancin' relationships, my bitch okay with the program
Lotta Cash Tune, this shit way bigger than motion
Living what I read on a paper that I wrote a lot

Ayy, ay-ay-ay-ay-ay
Ayy-ay-ay-ay-ay
Ayy-ay-ay-ay-ay

Otros videos de esta canción
    0 visualizaciones

    Afinación de los acordes

    Afinador en línea

    Ops (: Contenido disponible solo en portugués.
    OK