Hi-Life, Too Swift, Young Quik, bring it to 'em
[Chorus: in faux patois]
Run up run up we got de gun up
Haters that think we funnin dey get done up
Run up run up we got de gun up
Haters that think we funnin dey get done up
[Hi-C - sounding like Milk Dee]
Stop schemin, and lookin hard
I got that ghetto platinum credit card
Make one phone call and fools gettin hurt
Niggaz, busters, bitches in skirts
Got a hoe in the house peepin out yo' safe
Get you naked, and duct tape your nuts to your waist
Horny nigga, thought you was gettin some cock
You ain't gettin shit, nigga you got got
While I run your shit back over to the top
400 bottles of Moet gettin popped
Not even cops, can fuck with Swift or the Diggler
Serve and protect, we gettin rid of ya
Put the green light on L.A.P.D.
Cause I'm tired of the motherfuckers fuckin WITH ME
I wanna bust, that's how I feel it
G shit, punk bitch, we be keepin it real
[Chorus] - 2X
[Too Swift]
Invisibility like Space Ghoster
I'm comin through in my Range Rover, shoot 'em up the party's over
