| Hey, what’s all this? |
| Hey stop all this confusion. |
| Hey! |
| Order in the
|
| Court… YOU’RE GUILTY!
|
| No I’m not guilty, you’re guilty. |
| Law makers. |
| Politicians. |
| Business men
|
| The police. |
| You don’t see no black folks dropping packages out of
|
| Airplanes. |
| You don’t see none of that. |
| You’re the reason why, I’m a
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| Criminal. |
| You’re the reason why, I’m… The Ice Cream Man
|
| Verse 1 *(Knumskull)*
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| I, spent hella time on the block late
|
| An I feel safe, as long as I can shoot the Glock straight
|
| So come
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| Get the greenery
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| Rush to the bank collect yo doe
|
| Make sho you got yo bucks in yo hand, cuz the man
|
| (be comin around the mountian when he come!)
|
| That’s a rigg up
|
| I rather swallow my yay, an shit slugs
|
| Fuck task, it’s a must I bubble
|
| So many rocks in my jaw I feel like Barney Rubble
|
| I got my, pager
|
| An my, bus pass
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| Grab my Avion water juss incase I had to dust task
|
| It was about four otha niggas on the spot grindin
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| One was on my team smokin hamps an poppin leads
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| (knock on weed nigga, fuck that knock on weed, you got a twenty??)
|
| Gave up two ten’s an a bump cuz I had plenty
|
| Not even knowin what I juss did
|
| Put the money in my pocket an headed back to the crib
|
| Got a tingle on my dick feelin bad
|
| Looked up an seen task cars comin at me
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| So I bounced through a buildin lost all my cash
|
| Swallowed my rocks, ditched my pager, I’m haulin ass
|
| Then found myself by Blyman’s house
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| Thinkin about juice
|
| Hit the turf, sky out
|
| Through the roof
|
| But that plan was cancelled
|
| Betta give up
|
| Betta throw yo hands up
|
| Here comes the man
|
| The gloves on the other hand
|
| Got on my knees
|
| Crossed my legs
|
| Then threw up my hands
|
| One of them yelled «Bitch hit the deck!!»
|
| Kevin Reese grabbed the stick an almost broke my neck
|
| I’m handcuffed on the ground wit a foot in my back
|
| Then they asked me «Hey where the fuck our money at!!!»
|
| Now I’m stressin cuz the dogs right beside me
|
| They took me down so that the under could identify me
|
| You got the right one BAY-BEE!
|
| Shot me downtown
|
| Threw me in a cell that’s drivin me crazy
|
| So they booked me
|
| Walked me through the court door
|
| Stripped me down
|
| An gave me some drawls the next nigga wore
|
| I’m in my pad makin phone calls
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| So I can post bail
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| Go home
|
| An then put on my own drawls
|
| Got in touch wit my nigga Yuk
|
| What’s up fool!!!
|
| I got a quarter ounce hidden in the cut
|
| Snatch it up
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| Get it off
|
| Come an get me
|
| Before I go back to court an they judge can get wit me
|
| Cuz the D-A
|
| Was talkin nonsense at my arraignment
|
| An think she’s still talkin the same shit
|
| They try an keep me
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| Locked up fo a grip
|
| An my public defender ain’t sayin shit!
|
| The deal is zero to twenty-eight days
|
| That shit is filthy!
|
| Now they got a nigga pleadin gulity
|
| I ain’t did nuthin wrong
|
| Why should I plead guilty?
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| They caught me wit no work
|
| But they claim that we was filthy
|
| I ain’t did nuthin wrong
|
| Why should I plead guilty?
|
| They caught me wit no work
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| But they claim we doin dirt
|
| Verse 2 *(Yukmouth)*
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| It’s like sixteen fiends get they welfare checks
|
| No po-po a 4−0 an some bomb
|
| An I’ll be there when it comes to collect
|
| No po-po a 4−0 an some bomb
|
| Rolled up
|
| Know what
|
| Don’t give a fuck what ya do
|
| Grama thought I was a goodie two-shoes
|
| But I was too true
|
| Now fools holla out the window like Rapunzel
|
| Give the caulk up, rock up, an chop up my bundle
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| So
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| Through the back pack
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| Gimme the crack sack
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| 9 mill gat
|
| An don’t grind on any turf that I’m buildin scratch at
|
| Jack pot
|
| I spot a hundred a sixty-fifth fiends buyin cream
|
| By the fifty grip but that’s come tricky shit
|
| It’s tricky!
|
| They wanna get me, rigg me on the pavement
|
| An Ripley’s won’t believe they had the nigga wit me on survailance
|
| Bring heat, to meet two
|
| But I can see through
|
| The fake ass wanna be true like R2-D2
|
| Bounce so I can start the Operation Stackola
|
| Yukmouth, about
|
| Wit a whole ounce of crackola
|
| Stash the ounce
|
| Grab a count
|
| I holds down, nobody out, like… ok
|
| By the window, then I threw my dope down
|
| An frowned
|
| That’s when I looked suspicious
|
| They bust a U-ey now I’m hurdlin fences like Olympics
|
| Wit hella sweat on my forehead
|
| Mo feds
|
| Jumpin off the roof top
|
| To lock my ass up like 2Pac
|
| Captured
|
| I see you in the bushes young bastard
|
| Don’t say shit
|
| Come out before I blast ya!
|
| Ok, I quit!
|
| Ahaha! |
| Bob, check him,(I give up man), no dope on him, no man, well
|
| You’re still goin downtown potna! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Plead Guilty , by - Luniz. Song from the album Operation Stackola, in the genre Поп