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Joe Budden - Please Don't Mind lyrics
You could turn the mic down a lil' bit
 C'mon, with the hands, yeah see
 [both talking]
 [Boobonic]
 Excuse me bitch what's your name
 Couple dollars ain't it so what's your game
 Known fact cause I'm gettin' the cash
 Don't dance face to face, bitch gimme the ass
 I'll help you out if you had a long day
 Dick like, good advice, it could go a long way
 Front, cause I knocked cha'll down
 I could remodel homes, I knock walls down
 I'm wit all, that shit y'all
 Talk about, oh what I don't hit raw
 Naw, you could flow like a bank hold up
 Have I ever loved a chick lemme think, hold up
 No, I'm all about the dough
 He shouldn't give a fuck if it's not your hoe
 Oh, that hatin' shit you did, ain't done us
 Playas and we get more head then new hundreds
 [Chorus]
 Please don't mind, how I pursue
 Don't take it personal girl it's how thugs do
 Let's get fly, sit for a few
 And after that let's go I'm fucking you
 [Mr.]
 Yo, let me tell you how I pursue
 Spit game in they ear, and it's proper too
 Say we stayin' at the Fount with Blue
 I'ma ball every day, spend a grand or two (psyche)
 Hit the beach, forget the sheets
 Get it down right there, chick touch your feetJoe Budden - Please Don't Mind - http://motolyrics.com/joe-budden/please-dont-mind-lyrics.html
 Loc roll, that's so much game
 Y'all think y'all know my aim
 That's a joke like Marlon Wayans, lame
 And it ain't got no change
 Chick listen up, want dick or what?
 Take that, that's the only thing I'm givin' up
 Only sent, it's the dream that your 'gone get
 Hit for free, then Boo 'gone hit
 No they not like M-O dot
 I hit, touch base, and ball like White Sox
[Chorus - 2x]
 [Boobonic]
 Look around dawg, what you see nigga
 Whole lotta model bitches then me nigga
 Me and Don in a drop and this pearl
 Withchu so sick make niggas wanna hurl
 Do it look like I care that's your girl?
 She diggin' me, and love that I'm all the way ferl
 You talkin' shit, don't concern her
 If I fuckin' go, hit more bitches than Ike Turner
 [Mr.]
 I send 'em home in the cab to tell
 I play 'em more high notes than Patti LaBelle (plus)
 You gel, heavywear at (and)
 Got ice and your bezie wear that
 Y'all doozers are strictly losers
 We 'gone blow bright like bulbs and fuses
 Tell your man he better slow his role
 Our guns'll make James Brown lose his soul
[Chorus - 4x]








