Five-O
Where my straight jacket at? I'm a psycho
Where that white blow? Why they copy my flow?
If it's not Young Money, it's a typo
There them lights go, we don't talk to Five-O

We don't t-t-talk, talk to Five-O
There them lights go, we don't talk to Five-O
If it's not Young Money, it's a typo
There them lights go, we don't talk to Five-O

Mister officer, mister officer
I'm sorry I don't wanna take a walk with ya
Matter of fact, I ain't tryna talk to ya
We ain't got no business, so f8ck we talking for?
There ain't no need to bring me in for no interrogation
'Cause about that boy who just got shot, I got no information
These broke a*s snitch niggas still gram shaving
At the precinct writing statements on which trap house is the station (Damn)
Not I, tattle-telling is for homos
Besides, that's the Number 1 Young Money no-no
Police, we don't chat with them
We ain't got no rap for them
You in the cop car pointing niggas out from the back of them (There he go)
Back seat informer, your papi shoulda warned ya
You even tell PoPo I'm black, then you's a f*ckin` goner
Yeah you get high, but I get higher
Manyana, I just might go to the halfway house and ask your supervisor

Where my straight jacket at? I'm a psycho
Where that white blow? Why they copy my flow?
If it's not Young Money, it's a typo
There them lights go, we don't talk to Five-O

We don't t-t-talk, talk to Five-O
There them lights go, we don't talk to Five-O
If it's not Young Money, it's a typo
There them lights go, we don't talk to Five-O

Yo... 4, 3, 2, cocka-doodle-doo
I was out in Africa, Shaka Zulu crew
Ho ho ho, red stockings too
Coming down the chimney, you're chopped 'n' screwed
It's me, bi*ches, F you snitches
Gimmie the heebie jeebies, so excuse my twitches
Excuse me! Lemme get that brewski
Niggas know them bitches can't do it like I dooski
I just pull up, chuck the deuce in some blue denim
And I just heard you running with the lieutenant
I'm the mistress, I be in the District of Columbia
Yes, uh huh, Washington
Better ask around, 'cause I'm what's popping-ton
I'm who they think about, playing with they pee pee
Gotta count sheep, B, 'cause I'm never sleepy
Yes, I'm the chief, you can find me in my teepee, bitches

Where my straight jacket at? I'm a psycho
Where that white blow? Why they copy my flow?
If it's not Young Money, it's a typo
There them lights go, we don't talk to Five-O

We don't t-t-talk, talk to Five-O
There them lights go, we don't talk to Five-O
If it's not Young Money, it's a typo
There them lights go, we don't talk to Five-O

Young Money psycho, straitjacket on me
Break a nigga jaw if he turn to informant
I bring it to your door step, loose lips sink ships nigga
So I'ma bring you to the bottom of the ocean
Uh, church, I hear you preaching like a f*cking reverend
Should've killed you in the first place, no second guessing
Could've killed 'em with the first and the second weapon
DJ Unk 'em with the hand, I two-step and deck 'em
Then I grab the choppa, blue flame Houston wreck 'em
Kick a snitch head through a goal like David Beckham
Make way, respect 'em, I could AK or tech 'em
Ay, you looking at a gangster in his essence
Now, bitch, bow down when a gangster in your presence
'Cause I'm God's gift like a present
For one, don't try me I could give you two lessons
You peasants get murdered if you do test 'em
Gudda Gudda, biatch!

Where my straight jacket at? I'm a psycho
Where that white blow? Why they copy my flow?
If it's not Young Money, it's a typo
There them lights go, we don't talk to Five-O