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0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Lyrics » J » John Cena » Don't Fuck With Us
Don't Fuck With Us
by John Cena
Print LyricsPRINT LYRICS Send it to a friendSEND IT TO A FRIEND Send it as ringtone to your cellphone SEND JOHN CENA

[John Cena]
We keep it hoppin like the cars with the shocks
We spittin heat on your block
We new to the game, but runnin the spot
Numbin your knot, with basslines that'll make ya neck break
This rook'll take your queen and put ya king in checkmate
Open your mind without makin ya meditate
We real champs; y'all just featherweight
Time to get it straight, I push your wig back
Crew loaded up with extra bread like a Big Mac
Beefin with us? We're leavin you face down
Stompin bitch rappers like I'm straight outta A-Town
Runnin the playground like it was a track meet
Shoes on the whip that be bigger than Shaq's feet
We into big things, bank account's overgrown
All types of cheese - swiss, cheddar, provolone
Guaranteed to burn wax like candles
Track hittin hard to the head like shots of Jack Daniels

[Chorus 2X: John Cena]
Y'all, bitch, crews, don't wanna fuck with us
Y'all bound, to, lose, another one bites the dust

[Tha Trademarc]
It's Trademarc the truth, laid back, aloof
I'm God, as if you needed some proof
You ain't hard I can see it on you, I need a roof
Fuck a droptop, crop if I'm creepin on you
Click-clack nickelback knickknacks if you got heaters on you
Spittin back live rounders, with five pounders
If we meetin on two, I put a beatin on you
Your sound's tired buddy, that's why I'm sleepin on you
We lean back in the ride, with cream stackin the rawhide
The sound of God slide with a raw vibe
Straight military camel clothes ash brown boots
So sick, I've been handlin flows, since enamel was gold tooth
And branded by low
You cold fuck like eskimo hoes at 7 below
You slow, you be the last to think
My hands seen more fuckin dirt than bathroom sinks


[John Cena]
I got punks, dumps and switches, dump chumpses bitches
We feed you to the sharks, you can sleep with the fishes
Clean you like dishes but I ain't no busboy
You ain't family, you ain't earnin my trust boy
Seen too many bitches that'll double cross ya
We bring more drama than the Laker roster
Get the click pissed, ain't nobody can save ya
Throw heat without lookin like Fernando Valenzuela

[Tha Trademarc]
Marc Predka's the name, the rest of you lame
I'm ego drivin, seen with different women, every size and frame
I refine my game by fuckin famous bitches
But it's all the same, it's just ex to the next
for sex or brain, misses or Mrs.
Married or not, my game don't stop
It's cars bars bonds and stocks you ain't see my flow
Y'all are small-time suckers like a knee-high hoe



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