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