[Ice Cube]
  You don't wanna fuck wit these
  
  You don't wanna fuck wit these
  Run up you big-ass bitch and I'll have you clockin G's
  Wit my knockout jab, mess around and stab
  yo' ass in the gut, I don't give a fuck
  Down with the brown, clownin these honkies
  that got us in the mix with they 666
  Tricks get found, stinkin like tuna
  Bailin through your hood in my fresh suede Pumas
  And I don't hit gates, nigga pump yo' brakes
  cause I ain't runnin, you better start gunnin
  Take your hand off your metal
  There's nowhere to hide, cause the world is a ghetto
  Want my afro long like Mad Dawg
  on a velvet poster, 40 on the coaster
  cause moms don't play that shit
  Been hard on a nigga since (?)8-8-6(?)
  Sayin you need Jesus, cause I got the fresh sweatshirt
  with the three fat, creases
  And it's on like that, nigga where you at?
  At a phone booth, I'm comin in the Coupe
  Beanie pull over, fool there they go
  Drive real slow so we can let them hoes know
  that G's even bust on L.A.P.D.'s
  Make 'em eat cheese, cause they don't wanna fuck with these
  And he don't wanna fuck wit these
  
  I got mo' flavor than a hoe with a dick
  and a stick of gum on her tongue, I get you sprung
  with the psycho-alpha-disco, my fist go
  in my pocket, grabbin on my pistol
  But I won't pull it out til it's time to spit
  Make the girls say, "Damn, niggaz can't have shit"
  Cause I see Satan, waitin in the cut
  for this black motherfucker, to bail out his hut
  And I don't give a mad-ass fuck
  about a sheriff who's tryin to tear-off a (??)
  My chinny chin chin hit him up with the right
  and then I bend bend got his ass in my sight
  My Chuck's hit the cement, then I bent the corner
  Yellin, " Cop Killer , and fuck Time-Warner"
  Got the wick-a-tick(??) niggaz say, damn he's so sweet
  Hypnotize yo' ass like that shit "Knee Deep"
  And you hate it, gang-affiliated
  Niggaz be bumpin, just a little somethin
  from that loc'ed out nigga that cater to the O.G.'s
  And let you know, that you don't wanna fuck wit these
  And you don't wanna fuck wit these
  And you don't wanna fuck wit these
  
  Rollin through the hood, when I see a bitch
  I hit the switch, she's on my dick
  Fresh t-shirt, thick like I hangs
  They say I got St. Ide's rushin through my veins
  from the CRASH units, all the way to Vice
  They claimin Ice Cube, ain't nuttin nice
  cause I keep hittin, fuck Bill Clinton
  No repentin, just representin
  I can walk through the park cause it's crazy after dark
  Keep my hand on my gun, cause I ain't the one
  Bang you're dead, brains out your head
  I wish I was the nigga that invented infrared
  Now I got it poppin but what's that odor?
  Smells like a hot pot of that bakin soda
  Cause I know nigs from A's to Z's slangin ki's
  Sayin you don't wanna fuck wit these
  
  Nigga please