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letra de i don't give a whut (i don't give a f... part 2) - big kwam

[produced by mr. mayhem & the creators]

[intro: big kwam]

yeah, one two, one two (yeah, yeah)
you know how i do (no doubt, no doubt)
big kwam on the remix, by my man, mr. mayhem (word up!)
word up! l-swift, a-b-tta in the house (true!)
check how i turn it on out (check it, check)
you know what i’m sayin’
check it out, check it out, check it out now
check it out, check it out, check it out now

[verse 1: big kwam]

(yo, yo)
by now, ya’ll should know the stats, kwam melt the wax
hardrocks react with hand claps, keep the jam pack
now i’ll monopolize high hats, for yous to supply cracks
to those stacks, runnin’ with live cats, (yo)
kwam will leave battles unscathed, regardless of gun sprays
on some days, i’ll toast you like it’s sunday (splaaauw!)
plus my st–z don’t revolve around coppin’ pleas—
on enemies, with intense degrees, when i dispense with ease
lacerate sh-t (what!) i blasted jake’s sh-t (what!) like earthquake—
split, the earth surface, quick i disperse your clique
so, feel the pent up fury, of a mooley, who’s moody—
enough to cuff your hand without a judge and jury
metamorphic rap cocoons’ll hit n-ggas with shrapnel wounds—
gunclap platoons, and put them back in tombs
word to moses, bringing careers to closures
with lines that disposes, of all the characters and poses—
whose heart ain’t in it, while the god printed—
rhymes that limit, the knife is to a b-tch, with his ego dented
i got raw sk!lls that’s sharper than saw mills
a rotten apple’s core still, about who got more bills (yo)
some bless me with the s.p., so i can stress the—
n-ggas who got me air ballin’ point like wes-ley
i’ll milk beats till they left redunant, only to be funded—
by the blunted, who come to my shows, in the hundreds
visiualize what my mind has drawn, my mental be the womb
with which rhymes is born, it’s on when i leave my tomb

[chorus: a-b-tta, l-swift & big kwam]

big kwam, get on the mic son and self-destruct
(why?)
i don’t give a f-ck! what! what! duck! (noooowww!)
you comin’ through grillin’ and your -ss gets stuck
(why?)
’cause i don’t give a f-ck! what! what! duck! (noooowww!)

[verse 2: big kwam]

(check it!)
i display moves that slay crews, without the -ssistance of tools
i break, fool, and enslave grooves
kwam extra lethal, never sweats the feeble (why?)
my cerebral evil (true!), trust there’ll be no sequel son (aaaight!)
deadlier than a sensei’s boots, brave recruits flew the coup—
when i bomb sh-t like babe ruth, ’cause they know when the man drop—
like arabian sands, how brothers fry, puff more thai than bangkok
and every paragraph is triggered by smoke, i figure i’ll provoke
a rap quote, that make n-ggas gasp and choke
i’m holdin’ cliques for ransom, money grip my anthem
trife like, 25 to life (b-tch) with manson
i’ll leave domes split, like chapped lips
bbs chrome and fat whips, attract chicks, when i’m at sh-t
but kwam ain’t the one for ya’ll to herbin’ (ahh)
you blood suckin’ vermin, just get stuck until your coochie’s burnin’
see, i’m hip to the game, plus i rip through your frame
so maintain i get personal like name chains
i hold the mic like a tight clamp, to get hype, champ
when i’m amped, more sh-t jump off than bike ramps
from stages to street corners, i defeat performers—
all the weaker gonners, when the kwam bring more heat than suanas
i keep a low pro-file, like the masked avenger
dismember contenders leave ’em crushed like car fenders

[bridge: a-b-tta, l-swift & big kwam]

big kwam in ’96 son about to blow up
(why?)
’cause i don’t give a f-ck! what! what! duck! (noooowww!)
yo i’m not familiar, but your -ss can get bucked
(why?)
’cause i don’t give a f-ck! what! what! duck! (noooowww! noooowww! noooowww!)

[outro: big kwam]

what…what
to all my cheddar scoopin’ n-ggas
what…what
blindside records get the money ya’ll
f-ckin’ juliano, get the money ya’ll
to my man sly, get the money ya’ll
to my brother jay, get the money ya’ll
big twan (uhh), get the money ya’ll
to my man aid black, get the money ya’ll
to my n-gga terror (what), get the money ya’ll
to my fallen clique, get the money ya’ll
to my man sticks (what), get the money ya’ll
we rollin’ too thick (what), get the money ya’ll
get the money ya’ll 96 get the money ya’ll
for real and i’m out (i’m out) (i’m out) (i’m out)

- big kwam

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