Please Don`t Mind Lyrics

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 I'm fucking 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
Withchu so sick make niggas 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 LaBelle (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]