| Late night, rollin' down Newbridge
|
| Headed towards the vac with a fat sack of dank and a few chems
|
| Had to get em off cuz I need some more bone white
|
| Spotted two rubes in a flipped out five
|
| Point o, caught me smokin' on a stog' a indo
|
| A couple a tight blue-suitin' badge-wearin' assholes
|
| Lookin' through my motheruckin' rear
|
| View mirror as I lash fast out severe
|
| Street, stopped right in front of my homie’s house
|
| And sure enough they parked right down the street, cut they lights off
|
| They must be some undercovers, man I’d love to
|
| Pour a glass of acid down their throats and watch their blood pump
|
| But that would be some other shit for them gray fools
|
| Tools that I use make dunk and get your blood, fools
|
| Jumped in the car, but the pace was kinda slow
|
| Just as I thought, them devils cut the car back on
|
| So I lashed out on the Harley bird, walked in front of the house
|
| Ran in, grabbed a nine, then I ran back out
|
| They drove down the street, but they kept on ridin', G
|
| Them mark-ass devils tried to do me |
| Them popos comin' straight for the murda one
|
| And I ain’t takin' no shit from the dirty devils
|
| Them popos comin' straight for the murda one
|
| There’s no respect to the motherfuckin' popo
|
| Them popos comin' straight for the murda one
|
| And I ain’t takin' no shit from the dirty devils
|
| Them popos comin' straight for the murda one
|
| There’s no respect to the motherfuckin' popo
|
| I had another little problem with the popos, man
|
| We was sittin' up in Denny’s trynna order us a Grand Slam
|
| Damn, my food was overcooked
|
| So I called for the waitress to come and take a look
|
| I said, «Could you just hand us our receipt, please?»
|
| She ran and told the cops that we ate and we was trynna leave
|
| There musta been somethin' hella wrong, we up to no good
|
| Cuz guess what we bein' chased by? |
| Yeah, some peckerwoods
|
| They musta followed us all the way to Marsh Road
|
| And right when they turnt off I fired up a fat stog'
|
| Bouncin' all the way to Chilco, then turnt right
|
| Saw the same five point o I saw the other night
|
| This time, he had two cop cars behind him |
| Got a search light like my cousin, so I blind him
|
| Now I gotta ditch this ride, cuz it’s happened more than one time
|
| And them janky fools on the plot
|
| Hopped out the vehicle, grabbed me some backstreets
|
| Stopped to catch my breath, and now I’m right back on my feet
|
| And now them streets is full of mark-ass C-O-Ps
|
| I got away, but them devils tried to do me
|
| Them popos comin' straight for the murda one
|
| And I ain’t takin' no shit from the dirty devils
|
| Them popos comin' straight for the murda one
|
| There’s no respect to the motherfuckin' popo
|
| Them popos comin' straight for the murda one
|
| And I ain’t takin' no shit from the dirty devils
|
| Them popos comin' straight for the murda one
|
| There’s no respect to the motherfuckin' popo
|
| Early in the mornin' I was hittin' some cot
|
| Bust a nut, but I was rudely interrupted by the clock
|
| Heard it tick tock and they was fallin' by the ding dong
|
| I jumped up, threw my clothes on, knew somethin' was wrong
|
| Looked out the window, saw fifteen task force members
|
| Probably won’t be out before somethin' like around December |
| I said, «What you want?», they kicked down the door
|
| Put the gun to my head and said, «Freeze nigga! |
| Hit the floor!»
|
| «You have the right to remain silent!»
|
| «Don't try to fight it, young nigga, cuz you’re mine, bitch!»
|
| I got thrown in the back of the V-wagon
|
| Feet steady draggin', pants still saggin'
|
| Now I’m locked down, dressed in my county orange
|
| Bein' in and out, out, got my families all torn
|
| I can’t smoke dank it’s like I’m on punishment
|
| Man these rednecks don’t even know who they fuckin' with
|
| Hellface bitches, protectin' hella snitches
|
| Trynna find a way to tear me up for my riches
|
| Now I gotta serve my time like a true G
|
| Cuz them devils from the hood straight did me
|
| Them popos comin' straight for the murda one
|
| And I ain’t takin' no shit from the dirty devils
|
| Them popos comin' straight for the murda one
|
| There’s no respect to the motherfuckin' popo
|
| Them popos comin' straight for the murda one
|
| And I ain’t takin' no shit from the dirty devils
|
| Them popos comin' straight for the murda one
|
| There’s no respect to the motherfuckin' popo |