| There they go over there!
|
| Aw man, shit!
|
| I gotta get up off my ass and go chase these cholo muthafuckas
|
| I hate those fuckin Mexicans
|
| I’m always gettin caca from the blaca
|
| The b.g. |
| hooter always pull me over
|
| Take me out the rafla, sit me on the curb
|
| …and then they look me over
|
| They ask about my beeper, I’m not a dope dealer
|
| This is the Cherokee 4 wheeler
|
| If I was sellin drugs
|
| To all of the street thugs
|
| Yo, I don’t mean to brag
|
| But I’d be drivin in a Jag
|
| I wouldn’t be hittin the Eastside lowridin
|
| I’d be in Hollywood or Venice Beach high-profilin
|
| And all that shit
|
| And I happen to play along with your stupid little skip
|
| But I’ll just kick it
|
| Yo, go ahead and write your ticket
|
| But hey yo, Mr. Officer, you know where you can stick it
|
| I say this to myself, I let him do his thing
|
| Or he might beat me down just like he beat down Rodney King
|
| I got pulled over
|
| Hey, don’t that truck look familiar?
|
| Yeah, that Cherokee over there?
|
| I think that belongs to that fat fuck ah —
|
| …that La Raza muthafucka
|
| Let’s go fuck with him
|
| Hey buddy, hey!
|
| Alright, you fuckin…
|
| Get your fuckin fat ass out the car!
|
| It’s 12 o’clock, late at night, I grab my keys
|
| Kid Frost put me up with a skeez
|
| So I roll a blunt to go
|
| On that late night hype, who gives a fuck about five-o?
|
| I’m knowin that they’re schemin, but fuck it
|
| Cause they cop car’s a goddamn bucket
|
| Geah, I ain’t sweatin shit, check the Eiht
|
| So they run a make on my goddamn plates
|
| So I hit the next corner real slow
|
| Low, here it go
|
| The same old routine because of my car, black
|
| Mistaken identity for slingin that dope sack
|
| And just because Compton’s my playground
|
| They want a nigga like E to stay way down
|
| But I done had enough with harrassin
|
| Like I said, one time still gafflin
|
| I know they up to no damn good
|
| Jackin a nigga, cause I’m seen in the hood
|
| But I best switch from a Benz to a Nova
|
| To prevent them from pullin me over
|
| Pull your ass over and get on the sidewalk, lock hands and feet
|
| You know the routine, nigga
|
| Yeah, nigga, you rollin down Alondra like you own this muthafucka
|
| Where the sack at, muthafucka, where the sack?
|
| The sack?
|
| Nigga, ain’t no sack
|
| The only sack is my nutsac
|
| You got the MC Eiht mixed up with these other clockers
|
| Get off the dick, muthafucka
|
| ALT, that’s me, I’ma flex again
|
| The hooter, they were dyin to shoot another Mexican
|
| So I learn: if I don’t wanna burn
|
| Then I pass up my exit, cause I’m afraid to turn
|
| And if I don’t, then that pig’ll be vicious
|
| Cause every hispanic at night is suspicious
|
| I’m thinkin to my mind that I can hardly bare it
|
| I heard 'Fuck the Police', but they forgot about the sheriffs
|
| And if I said it, then I might get beat down
|
| And I ain’t goin out by a clown in a brown gown
|
| They ain’t passin, no time for dashin
|
| Looked in my mirror, I seen red lights flashin
|
| He had his hand on his gun on his hip
|
| And when he walked up, yo, that dumb fuck tripped
|
| He was pissed, he said that I gave him some lip
|
| So he busted me, now I’m in custody
|
| He called my mother and he said he’d knock me silly, but
|
| Then I felt the crack of his muthafuckin billyclub
|
| Another night with a nurse looking over my shoulder
|
| Just because I got pulled over
|
| Hey, Honcho
|
| Get your taco-eatin ass out of the car
|
| What’s your fuckin name?
|
| I’m ALT, but what the fuck did I do?
|
| Get your fuckin ass over there on the curb
|
| What’s the bitch’s name?
|
| Hey man, don’t call my old lady a bitch
|
| All units code 461
|
| 24 Hollywood Boulevard
|
| Suspects in custody |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song I Got Pulled Over, artist - Kid Frost. Album song East Side Story, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп