Good evening
Police do not try to adjust your radios
There is nothing wrong
We have takin' control over this city
As to bring you this special
Bulletin and we will return this motherfucker
To ya as soon as the National guard move in

The cops want to catch the nigga that won't fetch
But I'll blast ya never call ya master
Who is that kickin' up shit much faster?
Rollin on a scooter, you know I might do ya
See a black clock and my buck shots run right through ya
I never knew ya
'Cause I'm not a trick
You can suck the biggity-dick, I'm not the piggity-pig
I get away quickity-quick
On the plane to South Central
Never get played by the monkey wrench ho
Steady mobbin' I'm just like Robin Hood
Up to no good, so many bitches on my wood
To the right of me and to the left of me
Bitch, I got so much game I need a referee
Throw a penalty of ass interference
Damn, y'all over me, so bitch get on the bitch
Here comes the cops so I better hit the fence
Better run fast 'cause the Dobermans pinch
And I won't play mine in the daytime
Goddamn, here comes the canine
Four legged copper that wants to use Ice Cube as a whopper
But who's the first nigga to outrun a chopper?
No lie say hi to the bad guy

Fuck! (Hey guys, where ya headed?)
Nowhere, man (got your license and registration?)
Yeah, hold up, right here (hey, what's in that box back there?)
Nothin', ah, nothin' (they happen to be donuts?)
(Ya got a glazed donut? How bout a bear claw?)
Ah iIf you don't have one, I got ta gaffle ya)
What? You gon' gaf, yeah!

See one-time, hit 'em up
'Cause you know the Lench Mob is down to get 'em up
People think Ice Cube roll with the gangs
'Cause I'm in a coupe de sittin' on thangs
Ain't gotta tell me twice about the jack
See a got a 9 in my lap to take care of that
Caps get peeled on the regular
'Cause niggas try to get me for my cellular
Knick knack paddy wack, the mack daddy's back
Kidnappin' hos like the Patty Hurst jack
Have the white ho, where the fo-fo'?
Go rob a liquor store, they can't blame it on a nigga row
Bring the money to the rooster
Had the bitch and the Mob bein' the booster
Damn, can't stand when the bitch get sent to sample
And come back up man
You want to point the finger at me 'cause the O.G.
As sooped like Chevro R.D.
Humpin', jumpin', had the place jumpin'
Goddamn, gotta break you off somethin'
You want to know why I bust in half
Now look at you now
Huh, and I'm out real fast
Get the paper out yo' ass, baby
Yo, here we go, listen to the po'
Shoot the bo-bo and act like ya know, ho
Fuck with the flow and die
When I walk by say hi to the bad guy

Ayo man, there's just one left
(I'll make a deal with ya)
What? (Ah, ya got one of those powdered donuts?
(How bout that twister
If it have cream in the middle
I'm gonna have to gaffle ya!)
You gon' gaffle us?
(Hey, can I reach back there and get one?
Ah yeah homie, go on and reach ahead here
Got a lot of donuts left
Duck ya head in here man

(What kind of a cop killer are you?)

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Word Collections Publishing
Writer(s): Bernard Worrell, Bootsy Collins, George Jr. Clinton, O'shea Jackson, Sylvester Stewart