We Don't Care Lyrics - Erick Sermon

Def Squad, J. Bleezy! 

Ha, com-bust-ya-ble, huh 

It's Erick, I'm back again, full fledged 

American flag in here so y'all pledge 

A few of y'all sold some albums, yeah congrats 

The game in trouble, I must rescue rap 

Yo, I'm a hero! Sometimes 

I feel the same way like the folks involved with Ground Zero 

And somebody owe me boy, I'm dead serious 

This year my Squad better blow to oblivious 

Yo, did you lose weight? Yeah, I got stamina 

Profile me like this and hold the camera 

I'm alone, so what y'all want do? 

Take over your facility like I'm +John Q+ 

I rock mics, I Chris Rock, I Kid Rock 

I rock the house, like I'm RUN!! 

Rap conniseur, I rock Sean John velour 

B-boy stance and that's hardcore 

E-Dub, real name, no gimmicks 

Your style is over, finito, finished! 

You a parasite, type lyrical germ 

You a sucker MC in layman terms, and 

[Chorus: x2] 

We don't care nuttin' bout you! 

Yeah, we don't care, we come up in the spot sayin' oh yeah 

Oh yeah, throw your hands in the air 

Oh yeah, cause 

Yeah, I got a track record, I spit fouls 

E don't stop, keep it grinding (grinding!) puts it down fo' sho' 

My figgedy flow is sick siggedy yo 

Watch me biggedy blow, and y'all niggedy know 

It's Def Squeezy, thirteen years in rap 

And now it's easy, I do things to please me 

YO - I come through so crazy 

I'm a "Stun'na," like M. Fresh and Baby 

Got more toys than Kay*Bee, me and my yung'uns 

"Slow Down," before you receive a summons 

And get hit for speeding; I break a switch off a tree 

You catch a beating for y'all misleading (yeah!) 

Shame on you, when you step to, huh 

The Green Eyed Bandit, smile you on candid 

Rob J. Timberlake, I got Janet 

I'm "In Control" now oh wow! 

Yeah cause that's how it is, and that's how I'm livin' 

I bring turmoil like Mike and Robin Givens 

And watch me go off a-go off 

A yes yes y'all, and show off and show off, and yes 

[Chorus] 

Sermon, the word I preach to ya 

Control the airwaves so it can reach to ya 

The underground of rap ring, I'm David Tua 

The one round knockout, your eyeballs pop out 

High school dropout, I'm not gon' cop out 

I did the rhymin thing and now a truck I hop out 

"Fiesta," I'm down with R. Kelly shit 

I'm "Supa Dupa Fly," Missy Elliott 

I stay focused, keep the same cycle 

Do me, proceed to rock the world like Michael 

Without Chris Tucker, with no Marlon Brando 

Just give enough for J-Lo to handle 

So scream at me, holla, smoke signals 

Morse code, try a 2-way, or telephone 

And I give it to ya, all day in street 

Two turntables a mic and breakbeat, cause 

[Chorus] 

You got about five seconds to get to the dance floor! 

You got about, two more seconds to get to the dance floor