bone thugs n harmony - f--- tha police lyrics
interpolated by krayzie bone and layzie bone
[sirens blaring.]
layzie:
f-ck the police. f-ck the police. f-ck ’em . . .
krayzie:
surprise.
you’re m-th-f-ckin’ right.
krayzie:
yo, f-ck the police, comin’ straight from the underground. a young n-gg- got it bad ’cause i’m brown and not the other color. some police think they have the authority to kill a minority, but m-th-f-cka mad, ’cause i ain’t the one for a punk m-th-f-cka with a badge and a gun to be beatin’ on and thrown in jail. but we can go toe to toe in the middle of the cell. f-ckin’ with a n-gg-, ’cause a n-gg- turned major, and got a little bit of money and they play us, search a n-gg- car, lookin’ for a product, thinkin’ every thug n-gg- sellin’ narcotics. they’d rather see me in the pen, than me blowin’ indo rollin’ in my benz-o. i send the police to the grave, and when i’m finished, n-gg-, bring the yellow tape to tape off the scene of the slaughter, still gettin’ swoll off bread and water. i don’t know if they f-gs or what–search a n-gg- down and grab on his nuts. and on the other hand, without a gun they can’t get none, but don’t let it be a black and a white one, ’cause they’ll slam ya down to the street t
op. black police showin’ out for the white cop, but krayzie bone will swarm on any m-th-f-cka in a blue uniform. just ’cause i’m from the c-l-e, the punk m-th-f-ckas are afraid of me, huh. a young n-gg- on the warpath, and when i’m finished, it’s gonna be a bloodbath of cops dying around my way. yo, b-tch, i got somethin’ to say:
[sirens blaring.]
layzie:
f-ck the police. f-ck the police. f-ck ’em . . .
krayzie:
surprise.
you’re m-th-f-ckin’ right.
krayzie and layzie:
f-ck the police and bone said it with authority, ’cause the n-gg-s on the street is a majority, a gang, and it’s whenever i’m steppin’ that a m-th-f-ckin’ weapon is kept in the stash spot for the so-called law, wishin’ bone was some n-gg-s that they never saw. lights start flashin’ behind me, but they scared of a n-gg-, so they mase me to blind me, but that sh-t don’t work. i just laugh, and plus, it gives ’em a hint not to step in my path. the police, i’m sayin’, “f-ck you, punk.” readin’ my rights and sh-t. it’s all junk. pullin’ out a silly club, so you stand with a fake–ss badge and a gun in your hand, but take off the gun, so we can see what’s up, and i’ll go at it, punk, and i’m a f-ck you up. made ya think i’m a kick your -ss, and drop the gat, and bone’s gon’ blast. i’m sneaky as f-ck when it comes to crime, and i’m a smoke ’em now and not next time. smoke any m-th-f-cka that sweats me and any -sshole that threatens me. i’m a sniper with a h-ll of a scope, takin’ out a cop or two. they can’
t f-ck with me. the m-th-f-ckin’ killa that’s mad with potential to get bad as f-ck. now i’m a turn it around–dig in the clip, yo, and this is the sound: [two gunshots.] yeah, somethin’ like that, but it all depends on the size of the strap. takin’ out a police will make my day, and the n-gg-s like bone, don’t give a f-ck to say . . .
[sirens blaring.]
layzie:
f-ck the police. f-ck the police. f-ck ’em . . .
krayzie:
surprise.
you’re m-th-f-ckin’ right.
layzie:
i’m tired of these m-th-f-ckin’ jackins. sweatin’ my thug, while we be thuggin’ in the shack and shinin’ the lights in my face and for what? maybe it’s because i’m kickin’ so much b-tt. i kick -ss, n-gg-. maybe, ’cause i blast on a stupid–ss n-gg- when i’m playin’ with the trigger of an uzi or an ak, ’cause the police always got somethin’ stupid to say. they pull out my picture with silence, ’cause my ident-ty along with my groups causes violence. it’s bone with the criminal behavior. yeah, i’m thugsta, n-gg-, but still i got flavor. without a gun and a badge, what do you got? a n-gg- in a uniform waitin’ to get shot by me or one of my n-gg-s, and with a gat it don’t matter if you’re smaller or bigger.
krayzie:
size don’t mean sh-t. i’m from the old school, fool.
layzie:
and as you all know, layzie bone came to rule. whenever i’m rollin’, keep on lookin’ in your mirror, and ears on cue, yo, so i can hear a dumb m-th-f-cka with a gun. and when i’m rollin’ off the eight, you’ll be the one that i take out, and then i get away, and while i’m drivin’ off laughin’, this is what i say, believe that . . .
[sirens blaring.]
layzie:
f-ck the police. f-ck the police. f-ck ’em . . .
krayzie:
surprise.
you’re m-th-f-ckin’ right.
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