Letra de I Don't Care, The Roots



[Chorus: sung 2X] 
I don't care, as long as the bassline's pumpin 
The drumline bangin away 
Make one move and I'll blow you away 
One false move and I'll blow you away 

[Black Thought] 
Yo - I don't really know but somebody said 
that the O.G. flow, it could fuck witcha head 
And the po-lice know that the green black and red 
too strong to con-trol, they study what I said 
Dig it - my name is 'Riq, and when I'm on the mic 
I'm known to spit somethin that these MC's hate 
I couldn't care less what you feel what you say 
Cause I gotta put it to you in my own special way - I'm a MONSTER! 
You know I'm certified sick 
I came from the corner where nobody got shit 
Took the cards I was dealt, turned it into hot spit 
Now I'm not only a passenger, I'm in the cockpit 
Been a long time comin, I was caught in the scramble 
of cats, tryin to do the same thing that they man do 
Eagles born to fly, real is made to ramble 
"A Dangerous Mind," I'm a prime example 

[Chorus] 

[Black Thought] 
Superfans wanna run up on me sparkin the ground up 
You need to fall back, could be NARC's around us 
You in a hot area for marchin powder 
If you holdin chowder, just walk without it 
Them real crook brothers don't talk about it 
They never make a move 'til they thought shit out kid 
I knew a lot of men who did bids for mayhem 
They made a lot of money, they money never made them 
The game of survival is filled with rivals 
Knives and fo'-five slugs flyin in spirals 
The wicked is diseased and it ain't all viral 
Could be greed and gluttony bubblin inside you 
Dawg, follow your pride, the rhythm'll guide you 
Yo, follow them guys, them niggaz'll rob you 
And have you up in somethin that dont' really involve you 
But you don't give a fuck you wanna pump the volume, I know 

[Chorus] 

[Black Thought] 
Yo, aiyyo the waistline thumpin, the face kinda jumpin the game 
Lookin sweeter than a bassline bumpin 
Don't come 'round me sparks and waste time frontin 
Them trick ass marks'll get the eight-five dumpin 
It ain't really bout nothin - Philly just love cuttin 
They shut shit down before the law start shuttin 
Get your route right cousin - be out nightclubbin relaxed 
And wanna get lights out tonight brother, perhaps 
It's the percussion that keeps shit, kinetic 
For some it ain't as fame, more sweet the street credit 
Some cats that play dirty didn't live, to regret it 
But move to the music he can live through the record 
I'm a Philly boss player, a dope rhyme sayer 
It's Black Ink back gettin cake by the layer 
by the stack, comin at us, get your weight right yeah 
If not, you makin a mistake right there, f'real 

[Chorus - 2X]

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