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hustle gang - 2 fucks lyrics

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[intro: chip]
hustle gang
london boy in the building
oh sh-t, by the way, uk
wha ah gwaan

[verse 1: chip]
okay so n-ggas wanna hate on me, i don’t give two f-cks
you better mind who you have your kids with
or your baby momma will get c-cked
i like girls who come roll my weed, pour her up, pour her up
even if i run out of money bet i won’t run out of luck
my n-gga ride who i grew up in the hood for real
i had dreams bout a house on the hills
there’s a couple things that we’d run from
and that is police and bills
before i f-cking die i’m going to sniff up a mil
i do it for the p-ssy & the money & the thrill
my n-gga it’s f-ck you & your opinion too
if your name is not on my will

[hook: chip]
i don’t give two f-cks, i don’t give two f-cks
i don’t give two f-cks, i don’t give two f-cks

[verse 2: b.o.b.]
if i’m in the building you know i’m screwed up
even in a threesome, i don’t give two f-cks
got so many b-tches i’m gonna need two trucks
i’mma need two trucks, i’mma need a few trucks
lame -ss n-gga just f-ck my cool up
lyin’ -ss ho trynna spread rumors
men gon lie, a women gon lie
so when you think about it who can you trust
n0body, n0body
errbody worry bout the old bobby
i got two blunts rolled up in each earpiece
i’ll turn your party to a dro party
all about my green like a neo solo artist
i be coming off the top like a tobogan
i say i don’t give a f-ck
can’t deal with it that’s your problem, ho

[hook]
i don’t give two f-cks, i don’t give two f-cks
i don’t give two f-cks, i don’t give two f-cks

[verse 3: t.i.]
n-gga hol’ up, i ain’t tryna call yo ho up
p-ssy probably smell like throw up
errbody know her for sucking on the d-ck until it blow up
p-ssy hair need a lawnmower, i’ll show a ho the door
i don’t give a f-ck n-gga so what
matter fact i don’t give two f-cks
you and that sl-t with that flappy–ss b-tt
fat ho never would get in my truck
she could never get f-cked for her it would never stand up
hanging out with my b-lls, like “h-ll n-gga naw”
f-ckin suckas now you dealin’ wit’ some real n-ggas y’all
i can show you how to get a mil’ in the fall
make it double by the winter then triple by the summer
first benz for yourself, baby mama get a hummer
get a crib for your mama, p-ss the chopper to the gunner
it’s a hundred, f-ck around if you wanna
n-gga i don’t give a f-ck

[hook]
i don’t give two f-cks, i don’t give two f-cks
i don’t give two f-cks, i don’t give two f-cks

[verse 4: trae tha truth]
trae-tha-truth gates, young n-gga rich
who the f-ck you n-ggas think you’re talking to b-tch
middle fingers up play it safe, eat d-ck
never gave a f-ck and prolly still don’t b-tch
run up in the field when i gun i move around
balled on a hater, you ain’t see me shoot around
never walk up out the club til money cover the ground
all gold chains they weigh about ten pounds
tryna find a sl-t that f-cks for ten rounds
i tell her go long get ready for ten downs
mention my name it rang in all towns
king of turf my throne is all brown
hustle gang b-tch, my hustle is out of order
when i’m done with that i get back in somebody daughter
i dont f-ck wit n-ggas, my temper done got shorter
i’ll worldstar they -ss and play them like a recorder

[hook]
i don’t give two f-cks, i don’t give two f-cks
i don’t give two f-cks, i don’t give two f-cks

[verse 5: young dro]
benz and the cadillac, no top (mmm-kay)
chevy geeked up, eat em’ up (mmm-kay)
these ain’t ‘gators, these crocs (okay)
these ain’t diamonds, these rocks (okay)
cutl-ss, butl-ss, we the camp
4g’s right under this lam’
tell a b-tch i don’t give two f-cks
matter fact b-tch i don’t give a d-mn
i’m the sh-t with a rifle, lose meat like lipo
i text that b-tch, she could suck my di- (shhh!) typo
i meant she could suck my d-ck, my truck so sick
i’m ’bout to call wayne up, tell that n-gga truk my fit
ho know where i’m at like low-jack, yo’ camp i blow back
i don’t give two f-cks, but they already know that
i’m cool like winter freeze (brrr!) in london where chip be
i was so fresh in the booty club thursday, them hoes tried to tip me

[hook]
i don’t give two f-cks, i don’t give two f-cks
i don’t give two f-cks, i don’t give two f-cks

[verse 6: travi$ scott]
if i had two d-cks, i wouldn’t give two f-cks
last week in magic city, spending in god we trusts
2 sphinxes on my chain, who the h-ll king tut?
since the world made me, now the whole globe blessed up
oh, you wanna f-ck me? you need at least two b-tts
yeah, you wanna smoke with me? you need at least ten blunts
uh, i ain’t touchin that cup, ‘less a motherf-cker screwed up
uh, and i’m young & i’m gettin’ it, and i never gave two f-cks

[hook]
i don’t give two f-cks, i don’t give two f-cks
i don’t give two f-cks, i don’t give two f-cks

- hustle gang lyrics

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