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Artist: Mathematics f/ Buddah Bless, Hot Flames, Killah Priest
Album:  Wu-Tang Clan & Friends * UnReleased
Song:   U Don't Care
Typed by: Cno Evil

[Intro: Killah Priest]
Yeah, Math, yeah, Killah Priest, yeah

[Killah Priest]
I write movies, with colorful films of loose leaf
Paper, for every line that I write with the paintbrush
I color ink in, the pictures of gangstas
The bullet in Lincoln to the blood on a stranger
Conspiracy from vice laws to power rules
To G.E.D. to the Cobra's Bible
No survival, soul survival, tribal
Like Africans in the villages, projects is the pyramids
Weeded in the bricks, you see the four fifth
Images, ain't nothing mysterious
It's the true and living, been through the system
Stay wise and afloat when you choose your wisdom

Can I ask you something, why?
Why did we soul this shit less down
Why do we hate one another (Because...)
We live in the same country as the white boy
They aren't talking, hate themselves like we are
(Man, them brothers are dying in the streets...)

[Hot Flames]
Picture my life through a crystal, the day I brought my first instrumental
Still remember the verse that I put it to
Born criminal, flow rare like an emerald
Robbing dudes coming out of chemical
If you ain't official, I ain't feeling you
First you hear a bang, then a whistle, then it's filling you
Admit it, when I'm killing you
This is what a villain do, avoiding the cops
Basketball hoop, nailed to my wall, playing ball with a sock
Seen tough dudes calling a cop, weak dudes running the spot
Street dudes running with glocks
No chances, in crunch time, I'm running the clock
Came up hard, like a caveman, never bought a statement
Study the rules, just so I can learn how to break 'em
If your soldier ain't on they job, didn't make 'em
I hired new ones to replace them
Got a lot of rap dudes, hearts racing, my style's sacred
Rap game, I'm so anxious... so amazing

Let the Gods be with you...

[Buddah Bless]
Where the trees at, dog? I'm smoking again
Tell the fiends that the crack spot is open again
I'm screaming, fuck the world, I'm fiending to fuck your girl
I got my burner, bitch nigga, nail his back to murder
Before I die, tryin' to get rich on a nine to five
Rather die in a ditch with my nine and fives
Cuz ya'll niggas get ready to war, take your guns
Put 'em in the air, cock 'em back, get ready to brawl
I know where you live, since brought mines, pop dog, I'm knowing your kids
Since thug, non-stop, ya'll know what it is
The streets is full of some shit
I got the heat, and I'm pulling the clip
How many bullets'll fit, fourteen, with one in the head
You run around with one in your leg, painting the back streets
Ain't the yac' sweet, I heard your fam came home from jail
I hit 'em up, split 'em up, and send 'em home in the mail
For the love of the game, non-stop until the whole world say I'm insane
Quiet as kept, ask Pretty Tone, about the thug-a-hill, them down on the step
And took drugs out of town from the left, yo
My bitch is a hoe, and I ain't trippin' in gold
Cuz I'm getting the dough, so ya'll niggas'll know
This some bitch shit, dog, now you riding high
Don't get your whip, hit, boy, when you riding by
Even your niggas know you ain't no wolf
Even your niggas know you ain't the truth
Don't make my fam come around your way
Don't make my mans gun you down today
Love is love, nigga, other than that, slug for slug, nigga
Fuck I look like, rolling dice
With niggas that's just holding ice
Bitch, that ain't your shine
Muthafucka, it ain't your time
For the bread, I bring it straight to your head
Give me the loaf, give me that platinum rope
And watch me turn it into crack and dope
Cuz if this music don't do it, nigga, gats'll smoke
If this music don't do it, nigga, gat's elope
Picture me rolling in the six, take flicks of me holding
On your bitch, nigga, picture me folding
Up the chips and frame it, you know what the name of the game is
Make money, make money, by any means
Take money, take money, there's many schemes

You ain't got no time for that shit
(Maybe you don't, but I do)