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SCARFACE lyrics : "You Don't Hear Me Doe"

(feat. DMG)
[DMG]
Call me psychotive but I'm bad, ^!$$% yo!

And I'ma do ya bad, black
And when I come, I'm bustin up ^!$$%s to hear me, black
Ya should of never let a ^!$$% see

if there was ^!$$%s and (*##$es and (*##$es and ^!$$%s that hated me
Huh, I waited for my date to come-of-age
and now I'm of-age I can't escape the $#&@in front page

So I guess that ^!$$% D is up to hit again
I kicks the funky %#@! and !@%!e, and stupid like I'm Gilligan
I'm P, supposed to hit a lick for a jack

The only thing I gained is the pain of ^!$$%s comin back
^!$$% lookin for they %#@!, aggravated and pissed
^!$$%s they can't $#&@ with my clique

I'm here to break em off for chunk
A D-E-A-T-H-L-Y, a mother$#&@in punk
And I be rollin with the brass

Don't answer with the ziggers in your hood, he break your neck to roll a
pass, ^!$$%
Don't even stop to say 'Whattup?' cos I bust for the $#&@

And pay some quick to light a mother$#&@er up
Next time you stop me on your block, I hope you leave the place
or be the next to meet the Lord face-to-face

^!$$%, I ain't the one to take no bull%#@!
Cos see a ^!$$% like the D is game to empty out the full clip
So when I come for ya, act like ya know

Sittin mother$#&@in smooth to the curb but you don't hear do'

[Chorus:]


I'ma bring ya to ya $$#hole (uh)
Do it like the G-to-O (yeah)

Bustin on that $$# but still I see that you don't hear me do'
(But you don't hear me do')
Bring ya to ya $$#hole (uh)

Do it like the G-to-O (yeah)
Bustin on that $$# but still I see that you don't hear me do'


[DMG]
It's time to $#&@ em up, here it comes, BLAST, ^!$$%!
Thump to your chest and they comin out your $$#, ^!$$%

I grew apart, livin my life as a criminal
^!$$%s G to kill but still I see that you don't hear me do'
So I'ma serve it to ya fat, hit the deck, mate

Hit the deck mate, call me Flipper when I checkmate
D-um divertin nine, Tre-9, full Glock, Glock
My Glock makin sounds and it don't stop

So ^!$$% pass the swisha quick
and I'ma blaze til the mother$#&@er burn me off my fingertips
Cos, see a ^!$$% gotta saty high

I try to smoke til I can't smoke and then I won't smoke
But still I got my fingers on my %#@!
and click, click, click, ya die, die, die, ya dead, (*##$!

You tried to test the wrong ^!$$%, be a tested
Straight from St.Paul but clockin G's down in Texas
Some think I'm talk cos I play it cool

but I ain't the average mother$#&@er, I do the %#@! that ^!$$%s won't do
Huh, like pistol whip a woodie for his bank
Then after that I gate and grab his (*##$ and do the same thang

And I will pain up the $$#hole
Collectin grips on my drips as I stroll but you don't hear me do'


[Chorus]

[DMG]

Ain't no mistakin what I'm bringin, you mother$#&@ers still ain't had
enough
So I'ma continue to break you off for proper $$# chunk

May it be 9, may it be a gauge, may it be a shank
Any way you come I'm in your mother$#&@in %#@!, mate!
Huh, a ^!$$% bustin caps, smokin fires

quick to bring it to your $$# and keep on goin til your $$# die
And it ain't no runnin down dem backstreets
cos I got slugs to catch em with Carl Lewis on the track meet

Huh, and still you wanna test a ^!$$% so
Audi 5, ^!$$%, hate to see ya go but you don't hear me do'

[Chorus]


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