Ghetto Bird

Why, oh why, must you swoop through the hood
Like everybody from the hood is up to no good?
You think all the girls around here are trickin'
Up there, lookin' like super-chicken?

At night, I see your light through my bedroom window
But I ain't got shit, but the pad and pencil
I can't wait 'til I hear you say
"I'm going down, mayday, mayday, I'm gonna clown"

'Cause every time that the pigs have got me
Y'all rub it in with the flying Nazi
Military force, but we don't want ya
Standin' on my roof with the rocket launcher

So fly like an eagle
But don't follow us wherever we go
The shit that I'm saying make sure it's heard
Mother fuck you and your punk-ass ghetto bird

Run, run, run from the ghetto bird
Run, run, run from the ghetto bird

Now, my hommie's here to lick on a trick for a Rolex
And let me try the Ford next
Now the Ford I was driving is hotter than July
Looked up and didn't see a ribbon in the sky
Saw a chopper with numbers on the bottom
Calling all cars, I think we've got 'em

I hit the gas and I mashed past Inglewood
I think I drove through every single hood
South Central, Compton and Watts
Long Beach, bust a U, here come the cops
Wish I had a genie with about three wishes
Metal flake green on D's, I look suspicious

You know that I'm running, shit, I hear it humming
Fuck, I see it coming
Is it a bird? Yup, is it a plane? No
I hit me a right on El Segundo
Wanted to hola, had to ditch the Impala
Let's see if they would follow

Me hit a fence, hit a fence, and another
Met me a baby Pitbull and his mother
Ran up in some people house and looked out of the window
I wish it was my kinfolk
Had to pull a strap on a fool named Louis the Third
'Cause I'm getting chased by the ghetto bird

Just put his hat, err, he combed his hair, and then put his hat back
Oh, he's acting nonchalant up there in that cockpit
Going a hundred and fifteen miles an hour
With the police chasing him
They're not gonna be real happy when they catch up with him
No matter what the eh
Err, they hate, they hate a bigmouth even worse"

Officer Bird's on his way, and I don't wanna see him
Could you please give me the keys to the BM?
See, I didn't wanna gank you
But don't make me bank you, thank you

Tried to get to the hood, and you might guess
That a fool like me done shot Cyrus
Incognito, ghetto eagle
Saying, "Fuck, where did he go?"

I bust me a left on Ruthelen
Park the 735 and I'm bailing
Went to my home girl's house and got a hug, man
She helped me run like Harriet Tubman
Looked out the window by the black bed
I saw the pigs and the Ford on a flatbed
Then the light from the Bird hit me in the face
I closed the blinds 'cause I didn't wanna catch a case

All that night, I heard the Bird circle
While I was eating fish and watching Urkel
She said I could sleep on the couch
By 2a.m. I was digging her out, fuck the ghetto bird

Which way is he going now?
Ok now, now he's, he's actually southbound on a service street
And, uh, gee whiz, I'm gonna have to get my maps out here
And figure out which service street he suddenly turned off on
Uh, the Sheriffs are, are well, I know that Sheriffs ground units got thrown off

Mother fuck you and your punk-ass ghetto bird



Credits
Writer(s): O'shea Jackson, George Clinton Jr., Garry Marshall Shider, William Earl Collins, Bernard Worrell, David Lee Spradley, Quincy Delight Jones Iii
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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