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Philly's Most Wanted - Please Don't Mind lyrics
You could turn the mic down a lil' bit C'mon, with the hands, yeah see {*both talking*} [Boobonic] Excuse me bitch what's your name Couple dollars ain't it so what's your game Known fact cause I'm gettin' the cash Don't dance face to face, bitch gimme the ass I'll help you out if you had a long day Dick like, good advice, it could go a long way Front, cause I knocked cha'll down I could remodel homes, I knock walls down I'm wit all, that shit y'all Talk about, oh what I don't hit raw Naw, you could flow like a bank hold up Have I ever loved a chick lemme think, hold up No, I'm all about the dough He shouldn't give a fuck if it's not your hoe Oh, that hatin' shit you did, ain't done us Playas and we get more head then new hundreds [Chorus] Please don't mind, how I pursue Don't take it personal girl it's how thugs do Let's get fly, sit for a few And after that let's go and crush in you [Mr.] Yo, let me tell you how I pursue Spit game in they ear, and it's proper too Say we stayin' at the Fount with Blue I'ma ball every day, spend a grand or two (psyche) Hit the beach, forget the sheets Get it down right there, chick touch your feet Loc roll, that's so much game Y'all think y'all know my aim That's a joke like Marlon Wayans, lame And it ain't got no change Chick listen up, want dick or what? Take that, that's the only thing I'm givin' up Only sent, it's the dream that your 'gone get Hit for free, then Boo 'gone hit No they not like M-O dot I hit, touch base, and ball like White Sox [Chorus - 2x] [Boobonic] Look around dawg, what you see nigga Whole lotta model bitches then me nigga Me and Don in a drop and this pearl With jewels so sick make niggaz wanna hurl Do it look like I care that's your girl? She diggin' me, and love that I'm all the way ferl You talkin' shit, don't concern her If I fuckin' go, hit more bitches than Ike Turner [Mr.] I send 'em home in the cab to tell I play 'em more high notes than Patti Lavelle (plus) You gel, heavywear at (and) Got ice and your bezie wear that Y'all doozers are strictly losers We 'gone blow bright like bulbs and fuses Tell your man he better slow his role Our guns'll make James Brown lose his soul [Chorus - 4x] |
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