You don't wanna fuck wit these Run up you big-ass bitch and I'll have you clockin G's Wit my knockout jab, mess around and stab yo' ass in the gut, I don't give a fuck Down with the brown, clownin these honkies that got us in the mix with they 666 Tricks get found, stinkin like tuna Bailin through your hood in my fresh suede Pumas And I don't hit gates, nigga pump yo' brakes cause I ain't runnin, you better start gunnin Take your hand off your metal There's nowhere to hide, cause the world is a ghetto Want my afro long like Mad Dawg on a velvet poster, 40 on the coaster cause moms don't play that shit Been hard on a nigga since (?)8-8-6(?) Sayin you need Jesus, cause I got the fresh sweatshirt with the three fat, creases And it's on like that, nigga where you at? At a phone booth, I'm comin in the Coupe Beanie pull over, fool there they go Drive real slow so we can let them hoes know that G's even bust on L.A.P.D.'s Make 'em eat cheese, cause they don't wanna fuck with these And he don't wanna fuck wit these
I got mo' flavor than a hoe with a dick and a stick of gum on her tongue, I get you sprung with the psycho-alpha-disco, my fist go in my pocket, grabbin on my pistol But I won't pull it out til it's time to spit Make the girls say, \"Damn, niggaz can't have shit\" Cause I see Satan, waitin in the cut for this black motherfucker, to bail out his hut And I don't give a mad-ass fuck about a sheriff who's tryin to tear-off a (??) My chinny chin chin hit him up with the right and then I bend bend got his ass in my sight My Chuck's hit the cement, then I bent the corner Yellin, \"+Cop Killer+, and fuck Time-Warner\" Got the wick-a-tick(??) niggaz say, damn he's so sweet Hypnotize yo' ass like that shit \"Knee Deep\" And you hate it, gang-affiliated Niggaz be bumpin, just a little somethin from that loc'ed out nigga that cater to the O.G.'s And let you know, that you don't wanna fuck wit these And you don't wanna fuck wit these And you don't wanna fuck wit these
Rollin through the hood, when I see a bitch I hit the switch, she's on my dick Fresh t-shirt, thick like I hangs They say I got St. Ide's rushin through my veins from the CRASH units, all the way to Vice They claimin Ice Cube, ain't nuttin nice cause I keep hittin, fuck Bill Clinton No repentin, just representin I can walk through the park cause it's crazy after dark Keep my hand on my gun, cause I ain't the one Bang you're dead, brains out your head I wish I was the nigga that invented infrared Now I got it poppin but what's that odor? Smells like a hot pot of that bakin soda Cause I know nigs from A's to Z's slangin ki's Sayin you don't wanna fuck wit these