You Don’t Hear Me Doe”(feat. DMG lyrics

SCARFACE
Miscellaneous
You Don't Hear Me Doe"(feat. DMG
[DMG]
Call me psychotive but I'm bad, n*gga yo!
And I'ma do ya bad, black
And when I come, I'm bustin up n*ggas to hear me, black
Ya should of never let a n*gga see
If there was n*ggas and b*tches and b*tches and n*ggas that hated me
Huh, I waited for my date to come-of-age
And now I'm of-age I can't escape the f*ckin front page
So I guess that n*gga D is up to hit again
I kicks the funky sh*t and coke, 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 n*ggas comin back
n*gga lookin for they sh*t, aggravated and p*ssed
n*ggas they can't f*ck with my clique
I'm here to break em off for chunk
A D-E-A-T-H-L-Y, a motherf*ckin 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, n*gga
Don't even stop to say 'Whattup?' cos I bust for the f*ck
And pay some quick to light a motherf*cker 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
n*gga, I ain't the one to take no bullsh*t
Cos see a n*gga like the D is game to empty out the full clip
So when I come for ya, act like ya know
Sittin motherf*ckin smooth to the curb but you don't hear do'
[Chorus:]
I'ma bring ya to ya as*h*le (uh)
Do it like the G-to-O (yeah)
Bustin on that ass but still I see that you don't hear me do'
(But you don't hear me do')
Bring ya to ya as*h*le (uh)
Do it like the G-to-O (yeah)
Bustin on that ass but still I see that you don't hear me do'
[DMG]
It's time to f*ck em up, here it comes, BLAST, n*gga!
Thump to your chest and they comin out your ass, n*gga
I grew apart, livin my life as a criminal
n*ggas 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 n*gga pass the swisha quick
And I'ma blaze til the motherf*cker burn me off my fingertips
Cos, see a n*gga 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 sh*t
And click, click, click, ya die, die, die, ya dead, b*tch!
You tried to test the wrong n*gga, 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 motherf*cker, I do the sh*t that n*ggas won't do
Huh, like pistol whip a woodie for his bank
Then after that I gate and grab his b*tch and do the same thang
And I will pain up the as*h*le
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 motherf*ckers still ain't had
Enough
So I'ma continue to break you off for proper ass chunk
May it be 9, may it be a gauge, may it be a shank
Any way you come I'm in your motherf*ckin sh*t, mate!
Huh, a n*gga bustin caps, smokin fires
Quick to bring it to your ass and keep on goin til your ass 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 n*gga so
Audi 5, n*gga, hate to see ya go but you don't hear me do'

[Chorus]
Yeah, check it!