wet quaid, dry lohan - we got chased by the cops lyrics
b: right, we ended sids
c: yeah, kinda
b: with out song, with our music
c: yeah, we kinda did. anyway, i got a call on the other line, i’ll see you later man
b; uh, okay
c: see ya man
hey capp it’s me
s-sorry i don’t have caller id, who is this?
aw, caller id, what’s that?
i don’t know. anyway, what’s up cale?
i’ve got the goods, man
the loot?
yeah, the goods
ok
hey, just get over here quick man. and hey cj
what’s up?
call me if you see a cop
they call me the cop surpriser
the boys in blue are none the wiser
when i draw my weapon and i take what’s mine
i’m a dirty rat for this life of crime
how many times must i say it?
i’m bad to the bone and i am not playing
don’t leave your honeys around me
when i walk on the spot: ladies, please!
me and ryan just did the dash
just like that we made off with the cash
can’t wait to buy an nes
make business quick and i’m gone in a flash
selling cigarettes out of my van (van)
try to catch me if you can (can)
holy sh-t here comes the man (man)
trying to put me in the can! (slam)
[chorus: wet quaid]
yeah, hey, yeah, hey, what, hey, yeah, hey, hey, yeah, hey
i got chased by the cops!
yeah, hey, yeah, hey, hey, huh, yeah, what, huh, yeah, hey
i got chased by the cops!
[verse 2: dry lohan]
i got a whole lot of loot, yuh
hide it inside of a coupe, yuh
hide it inside of a hat, yeah
i got insurance from aflac
take out a knife at the car shop
give me the car or the car shot
getting away in a coupe, skrrt
buying my new b-tch a new skirt
take out a gun in the gap
taking a skirt and a hat
scoop up a couple of kids
stack em up both in a napsack
now they be tell me i’m on the most wanted list
my momma know i never wanted this
all of the loot and i copped it
knock on the doors is the cops, sh-t
[chorus 2: dry lohan]
[verse 3: kermit]
today an angel weeps
for thy brother and thyself are one degree separated by the holster of the man in uniform
black and blue; what more can we do?
what more can i do than pretend to be apologetic that his skin color was his first offense?
or that the tremors that raised him taught him no better than to take pride in the chaos?
and yet still, you and he were once the same
not only in matching vital signs or hopeful hymns of a colorblind future but in the chase for respect
toting 45s and taking names
little does the lot know, when you take names, you take souls
what more can i do but believe souls carry on?
what more can i do but stand firm beside the body of another most common denominator, a statistic, a product of conditioning, a child?
stripped from life’s grasp due to your refusal to understand
so excuse my refusal to find empathy in the totality of brutality
black and blue; what less can we do?
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