Trouble seems to catch a mother$#&@er with his cards down
Gotta keep my drawers up, %#@!'s gettin hard now
These mother$#&@in cops be plantin %#@! on these ^!$$%s

Simply because these ^!$$%s got bank accounts that's bigger
I just can't get no peace from you mother$#&@in rollers
Everytime I pull my Benz or what, 'cha pull me over

I'm sick of mother$#&@ers who be checking Whitey's !@%!e tip
Blacker than a mother$#&@er, sweat me 'bout my *?dope-sip*?
^!$$%s just take your cut and get your $$# up out my face

The only thing you probably get from me is a @@#!-sucking pistol case
Unless you plan on plantin a lil' somethin in my %#@!
Just because you ain't got %#@!, (*##$!

Give em a badge and a trigger and that makes em figure
That they can $#&@ with a million dollar ^!$$%
They got you mixed up, fixed up at the Segas, shookin Indo

Gettin $#&@ed up in the gank-hole
The only way you'll whip that mother$#&@er is when you whip that
mother$#&@er

And we choke the mother$#&@er (Me stuck the mother$#&@er!)
So when you hear my song and wanna get it on
You better come prepared mother$#&@er, you dyin wit'cha boots on


[Chorus:]


(Put ya foot in my %#@! and let me try on your hood)
Dyin wit'cha boots on
(Put ya foot in my %#@! and let me try on your hood)

Yeah

[Interlude:(prison guard talking to inmate)]


[Guard:]
Do you know how many years you're facing inside?

25 to life and that's on the real
So you better snitch on your partner
[Inmate:]

$#&@ that! It was Brad Dawg, I ain't goin out by myself

^!$$%s gettin caught, doin time, so they snitchin

They pickin ^!$$%s up on a funky $$# suspicion
We'll be goin down for some questioning we think
And end up gettin hit with the $#&@in kitchen sink

Racketeer and laundering, Kingpin wondering
If they got some unsolved murders, then give him some of them
Just because we're ^!$$%s and they figure we're no smarter

We sell each other albums, start frattin on our partners
They start bringin up %#@! that happened back in '85
And then comes the largest jury, (*##$, they $#&@in time!

You might as well play the state
Cos you come to day for day
And sellin out your homeboys ain't the %#@!

Cos y'all gonna have to die in this (*##$, (*##$!
Lobbin wit'cha white suits on
And dyin wit'cha mother$#&@in boots on


(Put ya foot in my %#@! and let me try on your hood)