"Five-O" lyrics - NICKI MINAJ

Where my straitjacket 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 2 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
Matta fact, I ain't tryna talk 2 ya
We ain't got no business, so what we talkn for
It 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 your house is the station (damn)
Not I, tattle tellin' 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 wrap for them
You in the cop car point 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, and yous a fuckin' goner
Yeah you get high, but I get higher
Manyana, I just might go to the half way house and ask your supervisor

Where my straitjacket 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 2 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, your chopped and screwed
It's me bitches, eff you snitches, gimme 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
Betta ask around, 'cause I'm what's popping-ton
I'm who they think about, playin' with they pee pee
Gotta count sheep because I'm never sleepy
Guess I'm the chief, you can find me in my teepee... BITCHES!

Where my straitjacket 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 2 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 cycle, straitjacket on me
Break a nigga jaw if he turn too informant
I bring you to ya door step, loose slips, sank ships nigga
So I'm a bring you to the bottom of the ocean [uh chuuch]
I hear you preachin' like a fuckin' reverend
Should killed you in the first place... no second guessin'
Coulda 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 1 don't try me I could give you two lessons you peasants get murdered if you do test 'em
Gudda Gudda bitch!

Where my straitjacket 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 2 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