Fuck The Police Songtext / Lyric

Ah fuck, not this asshole again

(All right, superstar, hands on the steering wheel.)

What's the fuckin' problem, man?)

(Any drugs or any weapons in the vehicle?)

(I'm Frank Babbit, goddamit; I mean business, punk)

I know who you are. Fuck that

(I told you boys I got my eyes on you)

Fuck the police

Man, lick these nuts

(What did you just say?)

Fuck the police

(Why you gotta sweat us?)

I'll tell you why I'm sweating

They say protect and serve, then why the fuck am I handcuffed on the curb?

Hey, outta of the car [crosstalk] gun

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 ass bitch all over my dick

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 damned good day

Fuck 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 hell

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 hell out of Rugers and Glocks

You seeing them flatten their flocks

I speeding away and heating the box

We play some weed and flip a bitch up in the hurry fashion

And who now do I see? It's Violent J, hatchet slashin'

I'm sick of swine in my area

Yeah, it's Mr. Dirt Bags

Pigs all up in my biz

(What did you just call me?

All together now: fuck 'em

They got for sales in my distribution grid

(Fuck you, punk ass.)

(Dispatch, I got a '78 Cutlass sedan, smoke billowing out. Two Caucasian males with paint. A license plate ICP. Run a check please.)

Cruising down the street

It's the do-gooder Duke of the wicked Violent J Jake the Big Dog

Drinking Faygo like a madman

I'm screaming "Fuck the police!"

Well if I see them lights flash

With the shoka soogy back flip I fatten that lip

Cuz fuck going to the stone bone

I'd rather bury one of you butt nuggets away

I'm a wicked ass 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'

Now that's what I'm saying (whoop!)

I hear the sirens blare

In the middle of your donut treat is my meat

You can quote me now, bitch, cuz I'm so sweet

I'm trying to roll this blunt

(Yeah, I'm gonna roll your clown ass)

What the fuck you want?

(Is that a hatchet in the back seat?)

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 fuckin' problem, man?

(Get out of the car, asswipe. 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, fuck you motherfucker!

Man I just hate it when I start the blaze and see the blue and red behind my head

Now they're harassing me, asking me where I'm going, where I've been

There's people passing me laughing and now I'm starting to get upset

Why you harassing me, pig?

Yeah, I gotta fuck you for the boys in blue

And all the undercovers, yeah, fuck you too

Got a big old bowl of fuck you soup

And if yous fuck gonna catch you soon

About my stash and grow room or we might have to hunt you down

Touch tomb, desert for a dunes doom

Trying to fuck the police ones with real big boo, boo, boobs

Yeah, fuck 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 killing sex in the afternoon

And talk about me (what?)

Talk about who (you know)

Get this popo out his blue

Y'all can suck my dick

I want some weed shit

I'm saying fuck the police

Coming straight from J Rich