We Don’t Give A f*ck lyrics

[Intro: Black Child & Tah Murdah]
Yoooooo (Wha-what)
Throw your motherf*ckin middle fingers in the air, n*gga (Wha-what, what)
Cause if ya'll don't give a f*ck, like we don't give a f*ck
Throw your motherf*ckin fingers in the air

[Verse 1: Tah Murdah & Black Child]
Motherf*cker, the war's on, we gon' pour it on, n*ggas to be feminine
Guns rapidly sending them (Yoo)
For the love of the Benjamins (Yoo)
Keep em' leaking and bleedin' (Yaa)
To dogs with his brawds trembling (Yaa)
I'm sending him, till the LORD (Yaa, yoo) calls my adrenaline (I [?] ya'll n*ggas, Tah)
You slow mo? n*ggas getting slow dough? (Murder them now)
f*ck the po-po, I let the fo' blow, ([?] blaow, blaow) keep em' runnin' like Flo-Joe
I flow so sick, it's murda! (f*ck that)
Clip Inserter! ([?] [?] [?] [?])
Drop, pop and ditch the burner
We lust for more, cats plush, crush the raw (Get 'em!)
Hit a club, we rush the door, (Murda them now!) n*gga f*ck the law (Blaow, blaow, blaow, die!)
That's why we gon' blaze till we frozen up
Hand grenades (Die, motherf*cker, die!) to the precinct till they close it up
I'm one in the mil, (Ya'll ain't real, we real!) n*ggas that be gunnin' for real (Ya'll ain't ready!)
Leaving you numb from the steel, (Ya'll ain't ready!) so no pain to feel
So f*ck the world! Y'all eat a di*k ([?] [?] [?] motherf*cker!)
When you see the [?] skating off on you, my thugs than your guns let off
[Verse 2: Black Child & Tah Murdah, Both]
I earned connections, every time (Yeah!) I burn my weapon
Ya'll n*ggas gonna learn ya'll lesson (What!)
f*ck the feds, n*gga we spit hollow heads (Uh, uh, uh, uh)
Our motto is shed blood, a dead thug
That shed blood in hell, when my slugs set bail
Pled to death from your cell, I hope Heaven got a jail
From pretty n*ggas, with half a nickel flow (Yea, yea, yea, Black Child, motherf*ckers!)
Them b*tch n*ggas, that think they dimes on the low
Ya'll n*ggas is lame, commercial n*ggas get out the game
We here now, sh*ts gon' change (Murda)
We spit them things, (Murda) from point blank range at you (Murda)
Then ask "what the f*ck you won' do?", test the mic or the gun? (Yea!)
Lose your life and your ones? (What?!)
I don't give a f*ck where you from
n*ggas run when we come (Uh-huh)
I bust my gun
Cause I'm a bum from the gutter, you better know, it's Murda! Motherf*cker!

[Black Child & Ja Rule]
Y'all ain't hear me?
Y'all with me? (Huh?)
Throw ya'll f*ckin' fingers up, motherf*cker
Cause if y'all don't give a f*ck (Yea) like we (Yea) don't give a f*ck (Uh)
Throw your motherf*ckin' (Yea!) fingers (Yea!) in the air
[Verse 3: Ja Rule]
n*gga, I'm, living my live, f*ckin' your wife
Bending her up, while I'm hollering "I don't give a f*ck"
So I move like like it such, and ya'll can't get enough, of The Murderers here to murda y'all, n*gga, what, what
I know y'all are ready to die, know why
Cause the pain is too much to bare while alive
So I c*ck my nine, then close my eyes
Take another hit of that crip and blow mind
These are hard times, n*ggas hit the streets and bust blind
Out of fear, out of despair, but never in the air
We gon' take this, point blank range in your Range Rov
Pistol whip the kids and rape your straight ho
We the Murderers, yo, what you expect from us?
We n*ggas you can't trust, that don't really give a f*ck
We dedicated to street life, game and hustle
I don't wanna be white, I'm glad I'm black, I'm built for the struggle
My n*ggas tote guns for hittin' you and your squad up
Now we got the upper hand so keep your palms up
n*ggas, if you want it with Ja come in and line up
Guaranteed, you'll be meeting your maker, your times up
Negative, by the code of the streets we live
Paper, for it n*ggas be murdering sh*t
So what, what, n*ggas is hollering, yo, what up
Murda Inc. is the movement that won't be touched
Motherf*ckers
[Ja Rule & Vita]
You hear me?!
Murder Inc. n*ggas (It's Murda)
Cause if you don't give a f*ck like we don't give a f*ck
Throw your motherf*ckin' fingers in the air!
n*ggas!

[Verse 4: Vita]
We don't give a what, what
All of my ladies, it's all gravy, get your dubs up
It's Murda, turn it up
Plus, ain't nobody hotter than Totti so who you ridin' with?
Ladies hating blatantly be hating 'cause they ain't hot as this
Mrs. hot chick, straight to the top chick
That'll chase you, strip you of your crown then replace you
When I stay laced boo, in the top of the line in the finest designers from Fendi and Gabbana
Players if you want it, I got it, just come and get it
Thugs if you hustling, hustling, come and get it
Mommy if you rolling with Totti, let's get this dough up
We don't give a f*ck, what