Lyrics
I don't care!
Sermon.
Ayo!
Talib Kweli, uh
Come on!
Whip
Jea!
Def Squad, uh, yeah, Brooklyn, Long Island, uh-huh, Red what
Jea!
Hah, Chilltown.
Let's go!
Once again, back is the incredible!
Yup, the rhyme animal, a different sample though
I change the flow so it go with the music
Yes, I'm doing this for y'all amusement
This here's serious, look your reaction
Kid, you ain't never seen Dubs in action, no
A veteran, I flow like I'm young, what
Yup, he sold more records, but son sucked!
Call me washed up, yeah, talk about me
I sound like me, you sound like Jay-Z
Duke, speak breezy, I come and touch you
Kid, I ain't never scared
homey, I bone crush you
Watch E do his thing
if this don't work come back like boomerang
Testing, microphones are o-o-on I'm g-g-gone
New York, stand up! (I don't care!)
Yeah, I'm on the block, man (chillin!)
I'm parked by the Rucker park, I'm just (chillin!)
Underground love my spot, I'm just (chillin!)
I'm in the big truck so (I don't care!)
Hah, I'm in the crib, man (chillin!)
With Whip and my nigga Talib, we just (chillin!)
It's like that, you know how it is, we just (chillin!)
And I get the paper so (I don't care!)
MC, and ma, people call me Whip
I'm just (chillin) all alone, no one to be with, man
I took long, but I'm finally here
The most anticipated chick of the year, cheaugh
I came to flip and reverse game
every dude I touch get whipped lie my first name, and
Although I'm prissy, don't get it confused
I don't need to mess with you, I got plenty of dudes
Got the caramel skin, on the parallel twin
Heads keep turning like a carosel spins
I know for a fact, these women are sick
Cause these hos can't mess with this Dominican chick
Got the flag on my arm, it proves I am the bomb
All I do is speak Spanish and it works like a charm
I been ready, cause I payed my dues
Yo, this goes out to my Brooklyn crew
Yo (I don't care)
You might catch me on the train, OK, I'm just (chillin!)
I ain't too big for the game, I'm just (chillin!)
I got the whole Red with me (chillin!)
Roll through if you want, cause (I don't care!)
Yo, Def Squad got the girl, and now I'm just (chillin!)
I'm on the block, real tough, just (chillin!)
Y'all non-rapping chicks can keep (chillin!)
Talk if you want, cause (I don't care!)
Ayo, E is chillin! Kwe is chillin!
Whip in the house, Brooklyn in the building
Blood on the dance floor, sweat on the ceiling
When you get that feeling that gun concealing is a hobby
Nobody stealing shows like Kweli
Working on a new project while you chillin in the lobby
Keep it thorough, ain't real, guns don't kill
People kill people, but the Sun don't chill
But still, I stand cooler than a Minnesota winter
Nigga, hotter than the blocks where guns bust over dinners
Plus, all the sinners got dreams they running after
Working a 9 to 5 now is like you hustling backwards
That's why all these young girls in love with the rappers
Basketball players, and up-and-coming actors
Swimming with the sharks, and flirting with disaster
When the things you own start owning you, they your master
Yeah! (I don't care)
I got the yak in the back of the club, I'm just (chillin!)
With Whip and my nigga E Dub, we just (chillin!)
Nobody give a fuck about you, we (chillin!)
But I smack the shit out you, like (I don't care!)
So if you really want to know how it is, I'm just (chillin!)
Like audio, [?]tune milk[?] and kids, we (chillin!)
Material things that we shit, I'm just (chillin!)
You brag what you got, but (I don't care!)
Writer(s): Robert Spike Mickens, George M Brown, Erick S. Sermon, Robert E Bell, Dennis Ronald Thomas, Donald Boyce, Parrish Joseph Smith, Richard Westfield, Claydes Smith, Ronald Nathan Bell, Will Adams, Jayceon Terrell Taylor, James Brown
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