Please Don't Mind

[Mr. Man]

M-R Dot M-A-N B Double O B-O-N-I-C (*4X*)

[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, hit the floor 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: Pharell Williams]

Please don't mind, how I pursue

Don't take it personal girl that's how thugs do

Let's get high, sit for a few

And after that let's go I'm fuckin 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 feet

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

With jewels so sick make niggaz 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]