Kottonmouth Kings - f** the Police (feat. Insane Clown Posse) lyrics

(Intro) Ah f**, not this a**hole again (All right, superstar, hands on the steering wheel.) What's the f**in' problem, man?) (Any d** or any weapons in the vehicle?) Kind of (I'm Frank Babbit, goddamit; I mean business, punk) I know who you are. f** that (I told you boys I got my eyes on you) Yeah, right (Hook) f** the police Man, lick these nuts (What did you just say?) f** the police (Why you gotta sweat us?) I'll tell you why I'm sweating f** the police They say protect and serve, then why the f** 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 a** b**h 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 (Hook) f** 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 Beat rocks We play some weed and flip a b**h up in the hurry fashion And who now do I see? It's Violent J, hatchet slashin’ f** the police I'm sick of swine in my area f** the police Yeah, it's Mr. Dirt Bags Pigs all up in my biz f** the police (What did you just call me? All together now: f** 'em (f** me?) They got for sales in my distribution grid (f** you, punk a**.) (Dispatch, I got a '78 Cutla** sedan, smoke billowing out. Two Caucasian males with paint. A license plate ICP. Run a check please.) (Verse 3: Violent J) Cruising down the street With the big fat hog It's the do-gooder Duke of the wicked Violent J Jake the Big Dog Drinking Faygo like a madman Yes I do I'm screaming "f** the police!" (f** 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** going to the stone bone Is what I say I'd rather bury one of you bu*t nuggets away I'm a wicked a** 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**h, cuz I'm so sweet (f** the police) I'm trying to roll this blunt (Yeah, I'm gonna roll your clown a**) (f** the police) What the f** you want? (Is that a hatchet in the back seat?) (f** 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**in' problem, man? (Get out of the car, a**wipe. 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** you motherf**er! (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 hara**ing me, asking me where I'm going, where I've been There's people pa**ing me laughing and now I'm starting to get upset Why you hara**ing me, pig? Yeah, I gotta f** you for the boys in blue And all the undercovers, yeah, f** you too Got a big old bowl of f** you soup And if yous f** 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** the police ones with real big boo, boo, b**bs (Verse 5: D-Loc) Yeah, f** 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**ing s** in the afternoon And talk about me (what?) Talk about who (you know) Get this popo out his blue (f** the police) Y'all make me sick (f** the police) Y'all can s** my dick (f** the police) I want some weed sh** I'm saying f** the police Coming straight from J Rich