Оригинален текст
Ice Cube
You don't wanna fk wit these
You don't wanna fk wit these
Run up you big-ass b*tch and I'll have you clockin G's
Wit my knockout jab, mess around and stab
yo' as* in the gut, I don't give a fk
Down with the brown, clownin these honkies
that got us in the mix with they 666
Tricks get found, stinkin like tuna
Bailin through your hood in my fresh suede Pumas
And I don't hit gates, nigg* pump yo' brakes
cause I ain't runnin, you better start gunnin
Take your hand off your metal
There's nowhere to hide, cause the world is a ghetto
Want my afro long like Mad Dawg
on a velvet poster, 40 on the coaster
cause moms don't play that s**t
Been hard on a nigg* since (?)8-8-6(?)
Sayin you need Jesus, cause I got the fresh sweatshirt
with the three fat, creases
And it's on like that, nigg* where you at?
At a phone booth, I'm comin in the Coupe
Beanie pull over, fool there they go
Drive real slow so we can let them hoes know
that G's even bust on L.A.P.D.'s
Make 'em eat cheese, cause they don't wanna fk with these
And he don't wanna fk wit these
I got mo' flavor than a hoe with a d*ck
and a stick of gum on her tongue, I get you sprung
with the psycho-alpha-disco, my fist go
in my pocket, grabbin on my pistol
But I won't pull it out til it's time to spit
Make the girls say, "d*mn, can't have s**t"
Cause I see Satan, waitin in the cut
for this black motherfker, to bail out his hut
And I don't give a mad-ass fk
about a sheriff who's tryin to tear-off a (??)
My chinny chin chin hit him up with the right
and then I bend bend got his as* in my sight
My Chuck's h*t the cement, then I bent the corner
Yellin, "+Cop Killer+, and fk Time-Warner"
Got the wick-a-tick(??) say, d*mn he's so sweet
Hypnotize yo' as* like that s**t "Knee Deep"
And you hate it, gang-affiliated
be bumpin, just a little somethin
from that loc'ed out nigg* that cater to the O.G.'s
And let you know, that you don't wanna fk wit these
And you don't wanna fk wit these
And you don't wanna fk wit these
Rollin through the hood, when I see a b*tch
I hit the switch, she's on my d*ck
Fresh t-shirt, thick like I hangs
They say I got St. Ide's rushin through my veins
from the CRASH units, all the way to Vice
They claimin Ice Cube, ain't nuttin nice
cause I keep hittin, fk Bill Clinton
No repentin, just representin
I can walk through the park cause it's crazy after dark
Keep my hand on my gun, cause I ain't the one
Bang you're dead, brains out your head
I wish I was the nigg* that invented infrared
Now I got it poppin but what's that odor?
Smells like a hot pot of that bakin soda
Cause I know nigs from A's to Z's slangin ki's
Sayin you don't wanna fk wit these
