Five-o (feat. Jae Millz & Gudda Gudda)

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

[Jae Millz]

Mister officer, mister officer

I’m sorry I don’t wanna take a walk with ya

Matter of fact, I ain’t try'na talk to ya

We ain’t got no business, so what we talking for?

There ain’t no need to bring me in for no interrogation

Cause about that boy who just got shot, I gots no information

These broke ass 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, thats 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 fucking 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

[Nicki Minaj]

Yo… 4, 3, 2

Cocka doodle do

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 bitches, eff 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 he 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

[Gudda Gudda]

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’mma bring you to the bottom of the ocean [uh chuuch]

I hear you preaching like a fucking 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 attack em

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