lirik lagu tha roka (razor) - you don't care
[intro]
what’s my future?
you don’t have one!
~maniacal laughter~
[chorus: kate voegele?]
you don’t really care for music, do you
you don’t really care for music, do you
[verse 1: wicked wayz]
s.l.p, wicked wayz, keep k!llin’ ’em and throw it up
it’s creepyface, callin’ the haters out, they not showin’ up
i hear these fools, they runnin’ they~they mouth, i’m ’bout to sew it shut
we keep these f~ckers takin’ they~they meds, that’s how they know it’s us
i’m sick of hearin’ cats sayin’ cree~creepyface is overrated
i love the game so much, i~i think that i overplayed it
i’m spittin’ bullets man, my microphone is nickel~plated
i think thеy hate my sh~t ro~roka ’cause they supposеd to hate it
i keep these cats faded, pu~pushin’ they caps back
i’m drinkin’, they blood spittin’, paintings and abstract
and cuttin’ ’em up, stuffin’ parts in a backpack
they backtrack just so they don’t find theyself in my flashback (rah!)
[chorus: kate voegele?]
you don’t really care for music, do you
you don’t really care for music, do you
[verse 2: tha roka]
i’ve been f~ckin’ spittin’ death blows since 1989
but the abuse and negativity surrounded all my rhymes (yah)
plan on loose leaf, ink poured out my pen
shed my pains and beliefs about my life in the end
you know it, reachin’ for support, the game screams for new blood
suicide, wicked wayz on the streets, the new drug
but haters surround, attempt to beat me to the ground
b~ttin’ up, breakin’ they knuckles on the tips of my crown
my throne has rust in it, want my title? come get it
slaughter commercial artists, guillotine~types splittin’ (ah)
who needs love anymore? i’d rather die on the floor
then beg all of you people for your help anymore (please, love me, please)
my fam is enough to make me step up my flows
and leave my bl~~dy handprint on the industries clothes (there you go)
for a moment to be seen, this sh~t eats at my chest
i’m gonna rap ’til my rhymes take my last f~ckin’ breath
until i’m shoved in a box and i’m thrown into the dirt (ah)
and be known as the sickest rapper that ever roamed the earth (tha roka)
[chorus: kate voegele?]
you don’t really care for music, do you
you don’t really care for music, do you
[verse 3: wicked wayz]
(wicked wayz)
sit back, relax through this journey that i’m facin’
creases on my back, the devil antic~p~tin’ waitin’
for the cats to act up, i know it’s gon’ happen
devil court wicked wayz, bound to make it rappin’
f~ck the industry, i’m in the streets for juggalos (whoop whoop!)
i severed all the ties with deadly blows
will these things change for this game? who really knows
sit back and watch the bodies stack like dominoes
put ’em in the dirt for all my effort and work
now they on they knees and they blessin’ the church
yeah, they gon’ and seen the devil creepyface and it hurts
i got ’em slittin’ they own wrists, too quick to blamin’ a pervert
if you crossin’ suicide, ain’t no duckin’ the he~rs~
should we shut they ass down or should we buckle ’em first? (yeah)
the industry is hard while they tuckin’ they purse
s.l.p and wicked wayz got you stuck in a curse (curse, curse)
[chorus: kate voegele?]
you don’t really care for music, do you
you don’t really care for music, do you
you don’t really care for music, do you
you don’t really care for music, do you
you don’t really care for music, do you
you don’t really care for music, do you
[outro: kate voegele?]
you don’t really care for music, do you
you don’t really care for music, do you
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