Letra de Don't Fuck With Us - John Cena And Tha Trademarc
Letra de canci�n de Don't Fuck With Us de John Cena And Tha Trademarc lyrics
[John Cena]
We keep it hoppin like the cars with the shocks
We spittin heat on your block
We new to the game, but runnin the spot
Numbin your knot, with basslines that�ll make ya neck break
This rook�ll take your queen and put ya king in checkmate
Open your mind without makin ya meditate
We real champs; y�all just featherweight
Time to get it straight, I push your wig back
Crew loaded up with extra bread like a Big Mac
Beefin with us? We�re leavin you face down
Stompin bitch rappers like I�m straight outta A-Town
Runnin the playground like it was a track meet
Shoes on the whip that be bigger than Shaq�s feet
We into big things, bank account�s overgrown
All types of cheese - swiss, cheddar, provolone
Guaranteed to burn wax like candles
Track hittin hard to the head like shots of Jack Daniels
[Chorus 2x: John Cena]
Y�all, bitch, crews, don�t wanna fuck with us
Y�all bound, to, lose, another one bites the dust
[Tha Trademarc]
It�s Trademarc the truth, laid back, aloof
I�m God, as if you needed some proof
You ain�t hard I can see it on you, {?}
Fuck a droptop, crop if I�m creepin on you
Click-clack nickelback knickknacks if you got heaters on you
Spittin back live rounders, with five pounders
If we meetin on two, I put a beatin on you
Your sound�s tired buddy, that�s why I�m sleepin on you
We lean back in the ride, with cream stackin the rawhide
https://www.coveralia.com/letras/don-t-f----with-us-john-cena-and-tha-trademarc.php
The sound of God slide with a raw vibe
Straight military camel clothes ash brown boots
So sick, I�ve been handlin flows, since enamel was gold tooth
And branded by low
You cold fuck like eskimo hoes at 7 below
You slow, you be the last to think
My hands seen more fuckin dirt than bathroom sinks
[Chorus]
[John Cena]
I got punks, dumps and switches, dump chumpses bitches
We feed you to the sharks, you can sleep with the fishes
Clean you like dishes but I ain�t no busboy
You ain�t family, you ain�t earnin my trust boy
Seen too many bitches that�ll double cross ya
We bring more drama than the Laker roster
Get the click pissed, ain�t nobody can save ya
Throw heat without lookin like Fernando Valenzuela
[Tha Trademarc]
Marc Predka�s the name, the rest of you lame
I�m ego drivin, seen with different women, every size and frame
I refine my game by fuckin famous bitches
But it�s all the same, it�s just ex to the next
for sex or brain, misses or Mrs.
Married or not, my game don�t stop
It�s cars bars bonds and stocks you ain�t see my flow
Y�all are small-time suckers like a knee-high hoe
[Chorus]
We keep it hoppin like the cars with the shocks
We spittin heat on your block
We new to the game, but runnin the spot
Numbin your knot, with basslines that�ll make ya neck break
This rook�ll take your queen and put ya king in checkmate
Open your mind without makin ya meditate
We real champs; y�all just featherweight
Time to get it straight, I push your wig back
Crew loaded up with extra bread like a Big Mac
Beefin with us? We�re leavin you face down
Stompin bitch rappers like I�m straight outta A-Town
Runnin the playground like it was a track meet
Shoes on the whip that be bigger than Shaq�s feet
We into big things, bank account�s overgrown
All types of cheese - swiss, cheddar, provolone
Guaranteed to burn wax like candles
Track hittin hard to the head like shots of Jack Daniels
[Chorus 2x: John Cena]
Y�all, bitch, crews, don�t wanna fuck with us
Y�all bound, to, lose, another one bites the dust
[Tha Trademarc]
It�s Trademarc the truth, laid back, aloof
I�m God, as if you needed some proof
You ain�t hard I can see it on you, {?}
Fuck a droptop, crop if I�m creepin on you
Click-clack nickelback knickknacks if you got heaters on you
Spittin back live rounders, with five pounders
If we meetin on two, I put a beatin on you
Your sound�s tired buddy, that�s why I�m sleepin on you
We lean back in the ride, with cream stackin the rawhide
https://www.coveralia.com/letras/don-t-f----with-us-john-cena-and-tha-trademarc.php
The sound of God slide with a raw vibe
Straight military camel clothes ash brown boots
So sick, I�ve been handlin flows, since enamel was gold tooth
And branded by low
You cold fuck like eskimo hoes at 7 below
You slow, you be the last to think
My hands seen more fuckin dirt than bathroom sinks
[Chorus]
[John Cena]
I got punks, dumps and switches, dump chumpses bitches
We feed you to the sharks, you can sleep with the fishes
Clean you like dishes but I ain�t no busboy
You ain�t family, you ain�t earnin my trust boy
Seen too many bitches that�ll double cross ya
We bring more drama than the Laker roster
Get the click pissed, ain�t nobody can save ya
Throw heat without lookin like Fernando Valenzuela
[Tha Trademarc]
Marc Predka�s the name, the rest of you lame
I�m ego drivin, seen with different women, every size and frame
I refine my game by fuckin famous bitches
But it�s all the same, it�s just ex to the next
for sex or brain, misses or Mrs.
Married or not, my game don�t stop
It�s cars bars bonds and stocks you ain�t see my flow
Y�all are small-time suckers like a knee-high hoe
[Chorus]
