Ice Cube and the Lench Mob, is jackin' for beats Wait a minute, hold on, get your ass up Whassup nigga? Get over there shit Ya lil punk ass nigga C'mere, c'mere, c'mere boy God damnit you stop that shit now Take him to jail and get him the hell from in

(Call me a Florida boy) Wake up, nigga, wake up Yeah, bitch, I'm a Florida Boy 73s to them AMGs, now we rollin', boys I beat all of them cases, I'm on Bitch, I'm a Florida boy Old school, big-ass rims, sittin' like Tonka Toys I got a Florida state of

Hit that perfect beat boy Beat boy, beat boy Hit that perfect, hit that perfect Pump it uh! Yo pump it uh uh! Yo pump it uh! Lick it, dip it, twist it, turn it Lick it, dip it, twist it, turn it, stick it, dunk it P-p-p-p-pump it!

Strip it down, down, down Back to you and me like it used to be When it was an old back road with an old school beat Cowboy boots by your little bare feet Let it out, tell me right now Everything I need in them white cotton sheets Dirty dance me slow in

I hop on the beat Her body on fleek My pockets obese My partner gon' eat My partner a G We straight out the street Home of the braves Land of the freaks Dat Boy Cassius

De de de de de de day Save the day Baby when the night starts slipping When the night starts slipping When the night starts slipping away Boy you got my heartbeat skipping When you touch me even though The time is ticking away Just tell me it's not over

Makin' their way That's just a little bit more Than the law will allow Just the good ol' boys Never meanin' no harm Beats all you never saw Been in trouble with the law Since the day they was born Staightenin' the curves

Strip it down, down, down Back to you and me like it used to be When it was an old back road with an old school beat Cowboy boots by your little bare feet Let it out, tell me right now Everything I need in them white cotton sheets Dirty dance me slow in

I'm a Brooklyn baby He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed I've got feathers in my hair They say I'm too young to love you Well, my boyfriend's in the band I get down to Beat poetry And my jazz collection's rare I can play most anything

Case open, case shut Isn't it tragic? But you could pay to close it like a casket The D.A. is dressed to the nines In the mirror he practices all his lines To his closing argument twelve hearts beat in favor I'm guessing that he read the morning paper