(Chorus: Scratched by DJ Unknown)
Tired of the mother fucking jackin
Boys that be jackin
Tired of the motherfucking jackin
Police, want to front; want to jack

On a day at the spot where the homies be chillin
Gossiping about the latest Compton killin
Brothers is deep, and no time to sleep
The Boys on the tip, and they trying to creep
Had a G-ride, so I suggest that we punch it
Grover was driving, and doing about a hundred
Hit a corner on the plata. Checked the spot
Seen the P.D. lights. Down the spot was hot
Ed Dog was cuffin'. Threw in the back
Chiste and Lil' Rock jacked for selling that crack
E, man, hit the fence. Yelled out, "See you later!"
Shark then pulled out the big blue blazer
Dookie and Boo didn't know what to do
Jumped in the car with D.T, bumpin' CMW
Hit a you around the corner. Did it work? I wonder
C.P.D. on my ass, and they burnin' rubber
Didn't want to be like Brother and Fly: locked up
So I downed the Bird that was still in my cup
Parked the G-ride, and I started to bail
'Cause my trip was to home, not the County Jail
Police swooped. By the time the Boys was near me
Go Go fled 'cause the homie was kind of leary
I wasn't sweating shit, 'cause they had nothing on me
Bam looked bag. They were named. Now his Pony
They peeped out the pager. Said, "How much did it cost?
By the way MC Eiht, where's the dope you toss?"
(Eight): "Me sell dope? Um sir. I'm a rap singer
Won't go down like the Compton gang banger."
They ran a warrant check. I must have had good luck
But the homie who ran. Mmmm
One Time gaffled him up

(Chorus 3x: Scratched by DJ Unknown)
Get your ass in the car.
Ho hold it now.
Keep still boy. No need for static.

Get your ass in the car.
You're coming with us!

(Verse 2):
Had a show to do on a Thursday night
Me, Chill, Slip, and Tom rolling in Big White
Loaded as fuck, bumping "The Cactus."
I hope the Stoney Boys don't try to jack us
Gas tank was loaded, and so was the E
Kind of buzzed of the sack of the good E.T.
Chill was bustin' raps about the good ol' days
Switching to another form about how he get paid
Just then the Boys came behind the truck
Tom looked out and said, "What the fuck?!?!"
A motor cycle cop riding hard on the tip
Had to clown his ass once. N' said, "This ain't no C.H.I.P.S!"
Homie had a warrant for a D.U.I.
And in my pocket was a fat sack of Chocolate Thai
Damn! (damn)
Now it's time to get nervous
Starey Clown caught back em
And they was fixing to serve us
Dumb Dumb walked up and started asking for names
They he peeped me out and asked what's the gang I claim
The fact that I'm black is the reason you jack me
I've got to gang bang 'cause of the hat and khaki's
If I was in the hood, the dummy wouldn't have found me
He said, "Shut the fuck up 'fore you're headed for the County!"
He was already late. The fools had they nerves
To have us sitting contest on the edge of the curb
Twas showt, shorter that showt. What can I say?
"Keep on talking. Go ahead. Make my day
He started to acting tough n' Chill thought he was bluffin
But in a second or two, the Boys started the cuffin
Bud in our pockets. Brew in our cups
No time for explanations. One Time gaffled us up

(Chorus 3x: Scratched by DJ Unknown)
Get your ass in the car.
Ho hold it now.
For when? For what?
I ain't guilty!

Get your ass in the car.
You're coming with us!

Writer : AARON TYLER, TERRY ALLEN, ANDRE MANUEL
Copyright : Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group