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