[conversation of Busy Bee arguing with a cop about a stolen purse]
Vice [x4] You have the right to remain silent Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law You have the right for an attorney If you do not, or cannot afford an attorney an attorney will be appointed to you - you are now under arrest
Crime, it pays real nice But what you really didn't know that crime pays twice It pays once in money, twice in years in the jail cell, tryin to hide your tears And the trip bad, cause you tried to get rich in the graveyards, or in the shallow ditch It's money or time so make up your mind
Fraud, the girl he adored Turned out to be another dirty old broad Took all the money, told all the lies I heard she even, slept with other guys Nothing she wouldn't do for a dollar or two But every lie she told he knew to be true He loves his honey, but she loved money Vice [x6] Talk about ya-yo, uhh, it's everywhere you go They said in Miami it'll never snow Now it's snow in the palm trees, snow on the sand It snows all day, for sixty dollars a gram Now they're strung out and high, hung out to dry The air that they breathe the food that they buy They think that they can fly, but that's a white lie
The mob, a full time job Known to extort and steal or rob Started as a hitman, lookin for wealth And now he's the boss workin for his self For all the blood money that he did earn It made him take lives with no concern But soon he would learn that next is his turn
Prostitution, it's a low down shame How any girl, would wanna play that game From pillow, to post, a sidewalk host But the lady's got a condo out on the coast She thought that the hole, was better than gold Now she worked on her back til she got too old Layin down on the job, has made her a slob, uhh Vice [x6] It's a stickup, so throw your hands in the air And don't, ah put em down, keep em way up there Just let me your wallet empty all your pockets Got a itchy trigger finger and I'm gonna cock it My eyes got wide as they pulled away I said, "Who are you the cops?" He began to say "No I'm Clint Eastwood, make my day... get in the car!"
Homicide is on the rise, and it's no surprise The bums are in the alleyways tryin to take lives People burglarize then suicidal criminals are never idle Court procedures at your leisures eight finger Visas circle seizures Con man fencer, arson is a trip Take all the fingerprints, and give him the book And then hope that the judge don't let him off the hook, uh!Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
