[Verse 1: MJG]
Listen officer, I know I got a traffic warrant
But your wife got three, so where the f** is she?
You don't know, so you bring your personal
Problems back to your job
And every damn day you make it hard
You can't understand
When you see a black man
Rollin in a new ride
Gotta pull him over and
Gotta check the inside
Hell, who in the f** do you claim to be?
My help or my hurt, 'cause you ain't did sh** for me
See, every time I rolls
Every time I walks
Every time I breathes and every time I talks
I'm always being heard, or either being watched
By scary a** white folks or crooked a** cops
They coming, they searching
They pat me on my abs
The sons of a slave on a (?) from the path
I laughs, knowing that these fellas must be jealous
They want our autographs but they don't know how to tell us
It's crazy the way you treat my kind
You call this your job?
The system must've brainwashed your mind
I really resent the rues a cop would use within a day
So if you talking that sh**, it's in my duty to blow you away
[Commentary: MJG]
Punk a**, rookie a**
Sissy a** mu'f**in' police
Always in a mu'f**a's sh**
Just got out the muf**in' academy
[Verse 2: Eightball]
I'm supposed to love America
But America don't love me
A son of a slave of the father of this country
Freedom wasn't meant to be a luxury for you and I
Freedom came after many influential people died
In vein, it seems
Ain't a whole lot changed
They still cracking whips and shackling up n***as mayne
Projects ain't nothing but modern day plantations
And the masters reside at the police stations
Replacing whips with berettas and clips on they hips
Quick to gang up on young brothas who make that grip
I used to think that stacking papers would eliminate
Lack of p**y to f**ing police that player hate
I found out that a b**h is gonna be a b**h
And the police could give a f** that a n***a's rich
Ol' white men from the days of the cotton pickers
Who used to ride around on pickup trucks lynching n***as
They them same peckerwoods acting like a hoe
When they see a n***a moving in next door
In front of my own home rough me up and hara** me
And say you did it all in the line of duty
[Commentary: Eightball]
Coward a** police
Busters hiding behind a badge
All in a n***a's face
'Cause you can be strapped
I can be strapped too, hoe
Running with your gang
I'm running with my gang, b**h
You know what I'm saying?
You better step off this pimp sh**, hoe
[Verse 3: MJG]
Here come the motherf**ing plain clothes
Riding low-pro
In a fo' do', 95 Caprice
Trademark of the police
Each and every damn n***a
Wetback and (?)
Need to recognize before your mu'f**in' ship sank
I don't think these laws got no love for minorities
This is how I know it be so f** the majority
Pick em' out, one by one
Shoot em' down with my gun
Take em' to the woods, no mistake
Concrete shoes in the lake
I hate player hating perpetrating cops
The nerds of the school wanna run my f**ing block
You wanna know my name, well trick it's MJG
So miss me with that sh**, (?) you's a BC
What in the f** do you expect to gain
Constantly pulling me over
Constantly throwing your salt into my game
You lame, weak busters, can't do me
Especially when you're out or even in the line of duty
[Verse 4: Eightball]
I ain't taking it
Police hating the sh** I represent
Street sense, Glock totin'
Ripping pigs chests open
Hating them like they hating me, soon as they see
Another colored brotha flapping in some luxury
All in my a** with some gloves looking for some d**
Dogs sniff my balls, hell naw it ain't no love
Catch you slipping on your off day and spray your a**
Into the past as fire up one and hit the gas
I never did it but them busters make me wanna do it
Pull out the tech in a sec and leave em in the street wet
But that won't solve nothing
All that'll do is get me time
So I choose to write this rhyme and diss them hoes in every line
Sometimes, my mind wonders would the world be shocked
If we all did like Pac and bust at cops when we got stopped
Bet you sh** would straiten up and start flying right
b**h, it's judgement night
In the line of duty
[Commentary: MJG]
What the f** y'all punk motherf**ers looking for?
What the f** do you see?
sh**
A goddamn thing
Talkin' bout what the f** you smell
It ain't here
b**h, you can't prove sh**
Leave me the f** alone, goddamn it
Is my tags out of date, hoe?
Hell naw, goddamn it
Do I got a motherf**ing traffic warrant?
f** naw
Am I on your motherf**ing warrant list?
Naw, b**h
So why the f** you all up in my motherf**ing sh**, goddamn it?
I can't help it because your motherf**ing wife's p**y ain't hitting right, goddamn it
I can't help it because your son made straight F's, goddamn it
I ain't got sh** to do with that sh**, goddamn it
I can't help it because you ain't paid the mortgage yet, b**h
You ain't got to put that sh** out on me, hoe
I ain't got no record goddamn it
I ain't been to jail, you giving me motherf**ing hell, hoe
Get out my sh**, stay out my sh**