Lyrics Don't Fuck With Us - Don't F*** With Us - Clean Album Version - WWE John Cena and Tha Trademarc

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, baselines that'll make your neck break
This rook will take your queen and put your king in check mate
Open your mind without makin ya meditate
We real champs, y'all just featherweight
Time to get it straight, I push ya wig back
Crew loaded up with extra bread like a Big Mac
Beefin with us, we're leavin your face down
Stompin bitch rappers like I'm straight outta A-Town
Runnin the play ground like it was a track meet
Shoes on the quick that be bigger than Shaq's feet
We into big things, bank accounts, overgrown
All types of cheese, swiss cheddar povalon
Guaranteed to burn wax like candles
Tracks hittin hard to the head like shots of Jack Daniels

Y'all bitch crews (crews)
Don't wanna fuck with us
Y'all bound to lose
Another one bites the dust
(Fucker)

It's Trademarc, the truth
Laid back on loof, 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 drop top crop
If I'm creepin on you
Click clack nigga rap knick knacks if you got heaters on you
Spittin back loud rounders with five pounders
If you heatin onto, I'll put a beatin on you
You sounds tired, buddy, that's why I'm sleepin on you
We lean back in the ride with cream stacks in the bar hide
That's how the guards slide with the raw vibe
Straight military camel clothes, hash brown boots, shoots
I will handle the flow
Since an animals gold tooth and brand it like (?)
You go fuck like eskimo hoes
(??? - The rest is hard to figure out)

Y'all bitch crews (crews)
Don't wanna fuck with us
Y'all bound to lose
Another one bites the dust
(Fucker)

I got pump stumps and switches
Dump stunks is bitches
We feed you to the sharks, you can sleep with the fishes
(?) 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 clique pissed, ain't nobody could save ya
Throw heat without lookin like Fernando Valezuela

Marc Records the name, the rest of you lame
I'm ego driven seen with different women every size and flame
I refine my game by fuckin famous bitches
But it's all the same it's just next to the miss
Sex to the brain, misses or misses
Married or not, my game don't stop
These cars bars bars and stocks, you ain't seen my flow
Y'all are small-time suckers, like a knee high hoe

Y'all bitch crews (crews)
Don't wanna fuck with us
Y'all bound to lose
Another one bites the dust
(Fucker)