Chorus: {u.n.l.v.}
 
  
  211s at night 187s in the day light
 
 Nigga we just don't give a fuck
 
 211s at night 187s in the day light
 
 Nigga we just don't give a fuck
  
 
 Verse one: {lil' ya}
  
 
 Nigga's be try'na rep and some fool's
 
 Be try'na buck but lil' ya that type of
 
 Nigga that just don't give a fuck
 
 But nathan and if you hatin' then
 
 You's a hater but I'm straight out that three
 
 So how the fuck you gonna fade her
 
 Soldier with a heart made of steel
 
 Like my nigga b, I handle business on the real and
 
 Then I chill make my rounds, pick up my car from
 
 My bitches cuz I be hittin' 'em regular like
 
 Dre be hittin' his switches
 
 Clockin' my riches as I stroll through my hood
 
 Puffin' on a blunt givin' love where it's all good and
 
 For you nigga's who ain't go no love
 
 I ain't got no love for you chumps
 
 Cuz I'm a smoke 'em and choke 'em
 
 Like a philly blunt
 
 Yeah, I'm gettin' my grove on
 
 I'm ready to move on
 
 To another level rob some nigga's or
 
 Whatever I got big nut's
 
 I got a big heart like I said it's been that way
 
 Since fuckin' start, you know me from my
 
 Fuckin' crew, you know what I'm bound to do
 
 I got a pit, I'm ready to spit,
 
 I'm ready to serve to uhh!
  
 
 Chorus
  
 
 Verse two: {yella boy}
  
 
 I even got's the boogy bangin' at'cha
 
 Grab my zookie if I have to
 
 Daze you up like daz
 
 I don't give a fuck like kurupt
 
 I'm dismantlin' mc's that come against me
 
 Me and the tecster in broad day light
 
 We comin' to do thee fuck it
 
 Of course, I'm a show no remorse
 
 Don't mean the boss, I never forget hoes
  
 
 Verse three: {tec-9}
  
 
 I'm gettin' skiet like that, I'm slippery like ease wax
 
 I chop ya down, like a disciple, with my riffle
 
 As if a white boy you disrespected my a-gender and
 
 Called me a nigga
  
 
 Verse four: { yella boy}
  
 
 I'm dumpin' you bitches out like boss hog
 
 I don't give a fuck about y'all
 
 You don't know what I would do to you
 
 But I know what'cha will do to you
 
 I would serve you, I would fuck clean over you
  
 
 Verse five: {tec-9}
  
 
 Y'all know that I'm back
 
 Like brand new wax on brand new cadalac's
 
 I'm mourin' I'm yawnin' plus I just
 
 Lost my equipment bag
  
 
 Verse six: {yella boy}
  
 
 Sweatin' like a zoo-loo to do you
 
 It's best you fuckin' scram
 
 I'm a champion I'm dumpin' on 'em
 
 I'm actin' a motherfuckin' donkey on 'em
  
 
 Chorus
  
 
 Verse seven {lil' ya}
  
 
 I'm bout to do a jack
 
 I got on all black
 
 In my hand lies a tool that
 
 I call my mack
 
 It's like my best friend cuz when
 
 I spin the bin it don't get jammed
 
 Bullet's chargin' like a ram
 
 You bet's believe when them hollow's hit'cha
 
 You goin' in pocket bitch, you better drop it
 
 One nigga tested my nut's he had the nerve to flex and
 
 On his arm was a rolex, he flinched for
 
 His gat that was stashed in his suit coat
 
 I had to show him, I had to fuck over him
 
 Stunt a fuckin' lick of that hit and it was on
 
 Then I put the key's on the lab and
 
 Niggas started pushin' slab's
 
 My pocket's started gettin' swole
 
 My knot has thickened
 
 That's how it is when
 
 Nigga like ya, is flippin' halves to
 
 Quickers, quarter bird's, to bird's
 
 Keep a brew full of rock's
 
 Cuz my bitch need a serve,
 
 Uploadin' kilt, puttin' in clip's at the
 
 Same time, beatin' you nigga's down
 
 With my bat if I ain't got that iron
 
 Leave yo mama cryin' why you shot my only son
 
 Gave him three to the head, smoke a blunt now I'm done
 
 Give me a bag of that helllo, and snort it up my nostril
 
 Drain got me loose as a goose and I wanna shot
 
 We put in work, doin' dirt everyday
 
 It's twelve noon, let's go get somebody
 
 To buy some yae, can't be no miner
 
 Got to be a big tymer, because i''m down to
 
 Pill a couple of cap's and get these nigga's out they snap's
 
 Cuz i'm
  
 
 Verse eight: {tec-9}
  
 
 You bitches don't know the fuckin' size of this shit
 
 I'm on the rise with this shit
 
 See tommorow, the fuckin' clip bitch
 
 2-2-6 my boy's comin'
 
 Mag-11 hollow tip's nigga
 
 Better start runnin'
 
 When I start comin' up the block
 
 With my glock like a mad man
 
 In a mad rage face is caught on the front page
 
 Let them bitches catch me down bad
 
 With my 12-gage
  
 
 Verse nine: {yella boy}
  
 
 You despise, why I'm up in disguise
 
 Now you paralyzed plus you realize
 
 To stop playin' with me
 
 My click is quick to let them bullet's fly
 
 Click ya fuckin' self ya bitch you
 
 For you get downed
  
 
 Chorus
  
 
 We droppin' 'em stop playin' with me
 
 Stop playin' with me