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Say Hi To The Bad Guy

Good evening.

Police do not try to adjust your radios.

There is nothing wrong.

We have takin' control over this city

As to bring you this special

Bulletin and we will return this motherfucker

To ya as soon as the National

Guard move in.The cops want to catch the nigga that won't fetch

But I'll blast ya never call ya master

Who is that kickin' up shit much faster?

Rollin on a scooter, you know I might do ya

See a black clock and my buck shots run right through ya

I never knew ya

'Cause I'm not a trick

You can suck the biggity-dick, I'm not the piggity-pig

I get away quickity-quick

On the plane to South Central

Never get played by the monkey wrench ho

Steady mobbin' I'm just like Robin Hood

Up to no good, so many bitches on my wood

To the right of me and to the left of me

Bitch, I got so much game I need a referee

Throw a penalty of ass interference

Damn, y'all over me, so bitch get on the bitch

Here comes the cops so I better hit the fence

Better run fast 'cause the dobermans pinch

And I won't play mine in the daytime

Goddamn, here comes the canine

Four legged copper that wants to use Ice Cube as a whopper

But who's the first nigga to outrun a chopper?

No lie say hi to the bad guyFuck! (Hey guys, where ya headed?)

Nowhere, man (Got your license and registration?)

Yeah, hold up, right here (Hey, what's in that box back there?)

Nothin', aah, nothin' (They happen to be donuts?)

(Ya got a glazed donut? How bout a bear claw?)

Ah (If you don't have one, I got ta gaffle ya)

What? You gon' gaf, yeah!See one-time, hit em up

'Cause you know the Lench Mob is down to get em up

People think Ice Cube roll with the gangs

'Cause I'm in a coupe de sittin' on thangs

Ain't gotta tell me twice about the jack

See a got a 9 in my lap ta take care of that

Caps get peeled on the regular

'Cause niggas try to get me for my cellular

Knick knack paddy wack, the mack daddy's back

Kidnappin' hos like the Patty Hurst jack

Have the white ho, where the fo'-fo'?

Go rob a liquor store, they can't blame it on a nigga row

Bring the money to the rooster

Had the bitch and the Mob bein' the booster

Damn, can't stand when the bitch get sent to sample *?bran?*

And come back up man

You want to point the finger at me 'cause the O.G.

As sooped like Chevro R.D.

Humpin', jumpin', had the place jumpin'

Goddamn, gotta break you off somethin'

You want to know why I bust in half

Now look at you now

Huh, and I'm out real fast

Get the paper out yo' ass, baby

Yo, here we go, listen to the po'

Shoot the bo-bo and act like ya know, ho

Fuck with the flow and die

When I walk by say hi to the bad guyAi yo man, there's just one left

(I'll make a deal with ya)

What? (Aah, ya got one of those powdered donuts?

(How bout that twister?

If it have cream in the middle,

I'm gonna have to gaffle ya!)

You gon' gaffle us?

(Hey, can I reach back there and get one?0

Ah yeah homie, go on and reach ahead here

Duck ya head in here man(What kind of cop killer are you?)

Songwriters

STEWART, SYLVESTER / WORRELL, BERNARD / JACKSON, O'SHEA / CLINTON, GEORGE JR. / COLLINS, BOOTSYPublished by

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

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