Bản dịch: Left Front Tire. We Don't Care.
plan of escape We don't care Don't try to tell us when the timing's right We've got our guns and we know how to use them We don't care Listen up you might
didn't make me any more peaceful Than how I felt when we weren't speaking Because I didn't cop to what I did I can't love you because we're supposed
if expressed today Today you don't have to be a soldier Don't have to be a soldier, stand down It's okay to be as you were Be as you were again Today you don't
be the devil 'cause somethin' wrong with these niggaz Nope and crazy ain't the word They say the stupid shit like trick, why don't you front a nigga
all the single mothers in the world Don't be wasting all your time And if a coward get you pregnant and he don't wanna help Don't get stressed out, you
don't care Then ms. tee poped up on the scene With that I don't give a ( I don't give a) You know what that mean bitches weigh tires With the fuck me
new car drops, then I'm tryna buy it Cam front, kinda tired Had a bitch last night, left her in the higher At the party, music loud (?) move the crowd Then we
both tired of fightin? anyway So just give it away So I?m still right here where she left me Along with all the other things She don?t care about anymore
you ain't a playa, you ain't ballin' And I don't even care who the hell you call in In this game, it ain't no talkin' You can get it started, I nail
front tires I need a wedge on the left side Get this windsheild cleaned, get on the gas. And if you don't care, hand me a pair of underwear I have messed
streets and i couldn't care less. if you said i was sheltered that would be a fair guess i work with words for a living, they don't pay very well,
, there's nothing I couldn't pay for We'll make up and never break up, I stay in love with you paper Money can't, money can't buy me love But she's acting
' confused, the scene, it couldn't be written Now he just pluckin' his chickens, I ain't gon' sock him or diss him I'm from the West Coast where niggaz don't
was strapped up hatin', waitin' on you Nigga, you the victim, we don't pick 'em We just stick 'em and when once we get 'em, we got 'em We try to rid
Don: Sure! Hamburgers! Look at this . . . Phyllis: I can't take it . . . Don: See that? Phyllis: I can't take it . . . oh, God, that hamburger! Don: But you don't
a mailbox on your bumper and a bald front tire" "Outta the car longhair, your goose is cooked" Read me my rights, fingerprinted, and booked Makin' like a D.T
A deuce and ten pennies We take and not askin mic 'excuse me Ben Friendly" So I don't need a handshake, I don't want a hug (naw) You's a 'chould of, would
