We Don't Need by Dom Pachino (Ft. Crunch Lo)
We Don't Need by Dom Pachino (Ft. Crunch Lo)

We Don’t Need

Dom Pachino & Crunch Lo * Track #9 On 4 Security Reasons

We Don’t Need Lyrics

[Chorus: sample (Crunch Lo)]
We don't need... (no more, no more, we don't need no more)
No more trouble... (I'm going out of mind, I see the
Sign of the times, 85 of them blind, they need help)
We don't need... (no more, we don't need no more)
No more trouble... (Armageddon is close, all I know is
I got my vest, and a couple of toasts)

[Dom Pachino]
Yo, now we don't need no trouble around here
You get puzzled on the double, we our rebels round here
Just try'nna make a dollar while the coast is clear
My hostler's on my shoulders, so you know my toast is near
It must be, if I can't trust 'em, why should they trust me
The jakes be watching close, but they got nothing on me
Just a couple of assault charges from my days in the Army
Now when they pull me over and they say that they saw me
On TV, and posters, magazines, they think they know me
But all they really know is Dom P., is what they call me
Just another latin cat who had nothing, I showed
And proved my power, and turned nothing into something
Militant when I come in, dilligent when I'm gunning
I don't run from shit, I'm the shit, and I run it
Here's some advice, do me a favor, keep it a hundred
Cats be half-assing, I hate fake niggas with a passion

[Chorus]

[Crunch Lo]
I got swallowed by the beasts, now it feels like I'm trapped
I can't walk through these blocks without my gat and my cracks
I gotta eat, man, plus I'm addicted to these streets, and
I know it sounds funny, it's the love of the money
So God forgive me, for the things that you forbid me to do
What's a nigga to do, I read psalms, bring a calm to myself
I'm running from the devil, but I'm chasing my wealth
Drop bombs, just like a stealth, never fold kid, yo, I bring it to live
So just sit back, before you take a trunk ride
It's Crunch Lo Beneen, ring bells like LL
A gangsta's respect, plus a mean clientele
The Team is Napalm, bout to blow like Iraq
We the 103 dudes from the Island of Stat
Everything is real gutter, we cook and cut the butter
The jakes give chase, with the hammers to face, it's like

[Chorus]

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