[DJ Quik]
Ain't nothin like poppin the brains on a Corvette
With your pet in the passenger seat

Ass at your feet, askin if you can pass her the weed
(Faster please) California masterpiece
Recorded partially in New York

With a blue spark on a purple plant and I worked your aunt
(She loved it) primarily under the circumstance
Don't be mad, I was bad, she was better, sweaty palms

But I bet her and she told your moms and wrote a letter
Now they comin back to get off of the curb
because I swerved on her (beat it (*##$!)

I ain't never been %#@!, that's what my mommy said
Now they callin to check to see if I took the gun from under my bed
She don't trust me, I don't trust me, my psychiatrist don't trust me

And I ain't called 'em back, I hope the cops don't come and bust me
I'm feelin lusty and my purple video tape is trusty
But I can't go to sleep with lotion on because I might get musty

I ride motorcycles and crash 'em on purpose
into a crowd of bystanders so my insurance policy won't be worthless


[Chorus]
Now quit that (*##$ %#@!, we gon' $#&@ you up mayne
We gon' $#&@ you up mayne, now get the $#&@ outta Dodge

It ain't gon' work mayne, we gon' $#&@ you up mayne
We gon' $#&@ you up mayne, don't make me pull the pump out the garage
And posse up mayne, we gon' $#&@ you up mayne

We gon' $#&@ you up mayne, you must be high on that sherm
But you gon' learn mayne, we gon' $#&@ you up mayne
We gon' $#&@ you up - WE GON' !#@* YOU UP!


[DJ Quik]
Bridget Bridget Bridget was a girl that I knew

But she's a dumb hoe, and baldheaded like DJ Pooh
Her saggy body tried to crash the party like Mobb Deep
With her elephant feet

I got a whole lot to say but it won't come out
Probably because I got this 38 in my mouth
And I'm pissed, I'm 'bout to nut up, $#&@ you ^!$$% shut up

Like Mausberg, I'll leave your chest burnin on the curb
Hennessy to XO, crashed in the Lex-o
I make the bridge flex 'til these (*##$ ^!$$%z let go

And I'm upset because I'm all alone
Homies don't play by the rules, $#&@ 'em then I'm glad they gone
Pluck 'em out the flowerpot, flush and make they shower hot

Blister and scour, I'm pistol-whippin with power, make 'em holla like chicks
Out in L.A. ain't nuttin good to talk about
Except dead homies, and how in '82 we had all the money

That's Freeway Rick and that C.I.A. %#@!
22 years later, it's just some ol' player hater %#@!
How many gangs can kill people under the age of 12

Get snitched on and go to jail, for another 22 years
And who gets recognized for pouring out the beer
And how many young blacks drink and smoke to cover they fear

It's $#&@ed up

[Chorus]


[DJ Quik]
I made my momma a promise that I would make it home honest

She knew that there were no problems cause she could see right through it
She know I'm deeper than half of these ^!$$%z, flyer than most of 'em
And that's as clear as you can see from off in your coast

And you ^!$$%z don't understand these 16 bars from within
If being dope is an abomination then I am a sin
Cause I'm fly like the wind, and I'm high to the end

My enemies are my used-to-be friends, where do I begin
It's a sesspool of stress, you cowards drink from the well
Got no energy for haters, you suckers can't give me hell

Cause you whack and you stale, and you act like you bail
You talk that %#@! 'til you gotta prove %#@!, get smacked when you fail
In the midst of it all I'm just persistin to ball

While these haters tumble and stumble and bumble and fall
I'm the key to cut your meter off, I'll blow what you worth
And befo' anything else on this earth - YOU'LL GET !#@*ED UP!


[Chorus]