[Chorus: Young Scooter & (E-40)]
We don’t give a fuck what you feelin' (What you feelin')
European car, no ceilin' (No ceilin')
Gettin' it, makin' a killin'
Made a quarter million out this project building (Project building)
We don’t give a fuck what you feelin' (What you feelin')
European car, no ceilin' (No ceilin')
Gettin' it, makin' a killin'
Made a quarter million out this project building (Project building)
[Verse 1: E-40]
A baby Syria, Kuwait
Hundred round drums that look just like a curled up snake
Chances are, you won’t survive if you fake
They'll make your car (Look like what?) look like a milk crate
Bla-ba-bla-ba-bla, ke-ke-ke-ke-ke-ke
Boo-boo-bloo-bloo, du-du-du-du-du-du
In New York they got subways, out here we got the BART
Out here they'll knock you down in front of Walmart
It's thowed, these youngstas crazy
Born in tje 90’s and thousands, chemical babies
Some about they allowance, some ain’t about shit
Catch you off sides, outta bounds, and put the gun in your lip
In the projects, in the flatlands, in the inner city
It’s drug infested and gritty, polluted, shitty, pissy
Rob they kinfolk for a brick, turn on 'em like a pit
Beat a homie up 'cause they say he snitched
BIATCH!
We don’t give a fuck what you feelin' (What you feelin')
European car, no ceilin' (No ceilin')
Gettin' it, makin' a killin'
Made a quarter million out this project building (Project building)
We don’t give a fuck what you feelin' (What you feelin')
European car, no ceilin' (No ceilin')
Gettin' it, makin' a killin'
Made a quarter million out this project building (Project building)
[Verse 1: E-40]
A baby Syria, Kuwait
Hundred round drums that look just like a curled up snake
Chances are, you won’t survive if you fake
They'll make your car (Look like what?) look like a milk crate
Bla-ba-bla-ba-bla, ke-ke-ke-ke-ke-ke
Boo-boo-bloo-bloo, du-du-du-du-du-du
In New York they got subways, out here we got the BART
Out here they'll knock you down in front of Walmart
It's thowed, these youngstas crazy
Born in tje 90’s and thousands, chemical babies
Some about they allowance, some ain’t about shit
Catch you off sides, outta bounds, and put the gun in your lip
In the projects, in the flatlands, in the inner city
It’s drug infested and gritty, polluted, shitty, pissy
Rob they kinfolk for a brick, turn on 'em like a pit
Beat a homie up 'cause they say he snitched
BIATCH!
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