lirik lagu kottonmouth kings - fuck the police
[intro]
ah f-ck, not this -ssh0l- again
(all right, superstar, hands on the steering wheel.)
what’s the f-ckin’ problem, man?)
(any drugs or any weapons in the vehicle?)
kind of
(i’m frank babbit, goddamit; i mean business, punk)
i know who you are. f-ck that
(i told you boys i got my eyes on you)
yeah, right
[hook]
f-ck the police
man, l!ck these nuts
(what did you just say?)
f-ck the police
(why you gotta sweat us?)
i’ll tell you why i’m sweating
f-ck the police
they say protect and serve, then why the f-ck am i handcuffed on the curb?
hey, outta of the car [crosstalk] gun
[verse 1: daddy x]
well here’s another tale from the subnoize shot callers
put it on the scale and we show you how to clock dollars
banging down the block, got my system on hit
fly -ss b-tch all over my d-ck
take another hit of the chronic than i bounce down to
johnny richter’s house so i could score another ounce
well that’s the way it is – i’m a kottonmouth king
rolling through the ‘burbs, blowing big smoke rings
cops on my tail; they in hot pursuit
i got my 215 but no excuse for the loot
i’m holding over 10 gs, mostly big face bills
i got some old warrants and a bottle of pills
i gotta think fast, so i’m heading to the pokey
i banged a quick left and i ditched old smokey
pig flew by, didn’t look my way
i must be higher than i thought – today’s a d-mned good day
[hook]
[verse 2: the dirtball]
f-ck you – i buy bacon, we don’t need it on the streets
if a problem crackin’ off i sure don’t call the police
i’m calling snipers in your city code, cops i smell
only trying to make a buck up off us – crooked as h-ll
i smashed on ’em by the simple fact that i’m holding 30 pounds
make my way up into michigan, smoke it with the clowns
you are not dealing with illegal people
no longer safe or sound
bullets are flying all over the place
and blood is soaking the ground
i’m squeezing the h-ll out of rugers and glocks
you seeing them flatten their flocks
i speeding away and heating the box
beat rocks
we play some weed and flip a b-tch up in the hurry fashion
and who now do i see? it’s violent j, hatchet slashin’
f-ck the police
i’m sick of swine in my area
f-ck the police
yeah, it’s mr. dirt bags
pigs all up in my biz
f-ck the police
(what did you just call me?
all together now: f-ck ’em
(f-ck me?)
they got for sales in my distribution grid
(f-ck you, punk -ss.)
(dispatch, i got a ’78 cutl-ss sedan, smoke billowing out. two caucasian males with facepaint. a license plate icp. run a check please.)
[verse 3: violent j]
cruising down the street
with the big fat hog
it’s the duke of the wicked violent j the big dog
drinking faygo like a madman
yes i do
i’m screaming “f-ck the police!”
(f-ck you too)
well if i see them lights flash
i’m fast to trip
with the shoka soogy back flip i fatten that lip
cuz f-ck going to the stone bone
is what i say
i’d rather bury one of you b-tt nuggets away
i’m a wicked -ss clown (with stiffs in the trunk)
and when i grip the whip (you can sniff in the funk)
kid, cuz where i’m from it ain’t about all that playin’
(nooo!)
now that’s what i’m saying (whoop!)
i hear the sirens blare
my axe in your hair
red mist in the air
in the middle of your donut treat is my meat
you can quote me now, b-tch, cuz i’m so sweet
(f-ck the police)
i’m trying to roll this blunt
(yeah, i’m gonna roll your clown -ss)
(f-ck the police)
what the f-ck you want?
(is that a hatchet in the back seat?)
(f-ck the police)
yeah, it’s all fun and games
’til i saw your face off and choke your brains
(yeah, looks like i got myself a little richter here)
what’s your f-ckin’ problem, man?
(get out of the car, -sswipe. i thought i told you i didn’t want to see you)
why’d you even pull me over?
(yeah, some people never learn. hey if you run i’m pulling steel!)
man, f-ck you motherf-cker!
[verse 4: johnny richter]
man i just hate it when i start the blaze and see the blue and red behind my head
now they’re har-ssing me, asking me where i’m going, where i’ve been
there’s people p-ssing me laughing and now i’m starting to get upset
why you har-ssing me, pig?
yeah, i gotta f-ck you for the boys in blue
and all the undercovers, yeah, f-ck you too
got a big old bowl of f-ck you soup
and if yous f-ck gonna catch you soon
keep your mouth shut
about my stash and grow room or we might have to hunt you down
touch tomb, desert for a dunes doom
trying to f-ck the police ones with real big boo, boo, b00bs
[verse 5: d-loc]
yeah, f-ck the police
that’s become a straight from the leg (you know)
up on the hill you know we puffing on the dank
and taking on the fakes is what we do
we shuckin’ rocks, you know, at your crew
we drink and brew, you know we getting tattoo
we k!lling s-x in the afternoon
and talk about me (what?)
talk about who (you know)
get this popo out his blue
(f-ck the police)
y’all make me sick
(f-ck the police)
y’all can suck my d-ck
(f-ck the police)
i want some weed sh-t
i’m saying f-ck the police
coming straight from j rich
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