You Ain't Gotta Lie (Ta Kick It)

You ain't got to lie to kick it (to kick it)

I know you like to see me doing bad

But I'm doing good

Fuck the police that's rolling through my neighborhood

Fucking pecker wood, see me in a five-speed (see)

I don't care if his motherfucking eyes bleed

This is my weed, this is my world

Don't get mad when you see them hundred spokes twirl

Candied out while you spent your last on a pearl

The Don Dada, I'm hotter than holy water

Wish I was your baby father

'Cause I got a fuckin' head on my shoulder (yeah)

And lead in my holster (fuck it)

Face on a poster

The kind of nigga that you want to get close to (uh-huh)

But you can't so you start to lying

Just like a nigga that think he dying (uh)

Get to crying, snitching and testifyin' (biatch)

To all my people left, I'm talking about your baby mama

When she meet Ice Cube, tell her save the drama

Yo, Cube, I'm gonna have all the bitches here

(You ain't got to lie to kick it)

Yo man, fuck the bitches, they ain't call me back

But I just paged my auntie (you ain't got to lie to kick it)

(Uh-uh, uh-uh)

Tell your mama, tell your daddy, tell your auntie

(You ain't got to lie to kick it)

Tell your cousin, tell your sister if she want me

(You ain't got to lie to kick it)

I'ma be as real as I can with this (uh-huh)

Not just a fake analyst on cannabis

Who only say that the world is scandalous

Without finding out a way to handle this

Dismantle this, either with the rhyme or the fist

How the fuck we get in the belly of this bitch? (How the fuck?)

I'll be rich if it wasn't for this snitch

Lying to the enemies about conspiracies (uh)

I'ma say this 'til the day that I die (day I die)

Seven-35s bring on vicious lies

While you bullshitting, I'm hard-hitting like 2Pac

I keep spitting 'til my heart stop

Young niggas trying to tell me that I'm played

Once they say you played, nigga you must be paid (ha-ha)

Pushing weight since the tenth grade, do my thing

Got more plaques than Jordan got rings, nigga sing

Yo, Cube, I got the new Benz nine thousand (you ain't got to lie to kick it)

I got the PlayStation and the windshield

Nigga (you ain't got to lie to kick it)

(Uh-uh, uh-uh)

Tell your mama, tell your daddy, tell your auntie

(You ain't got to lie to kick it) tell 'em

Tell your cousin, tell your sister if she want me

(You ain't got to lie to kick it)

I hate to see your ass coming, with your mouth running

Talking 'bout something (what?)

That ain't meaning nothing

'Bout your second cousin, who be always buzzing

Wish she was or wasn't, who she now fucking

Stories by the dozen, plus you got the sequel

To let you tell it, Randy Moss is your people

It's evident, your ass lie like the president

With stretch marks on your mouth is the evidence

How the fuck can your friends be the Benjamins? (Punk)

And your little ass car's full of Fender-Bends?

There you go on the stand with your hand up (lying)

Testifying about a man that's in handcuffs

We should do you like the Mack said

And if he lie like a crackhead, pop him like a blackhead

Let him ooze, let him lose

Let him lie about his motherfucking ass on the news

Yo, Cube, check out this ring, sixty-nine karats

(You ain't got to lie to kick it) lying motherfuckers

It's kryptonite, nigga, kryptonite! (you ain't got to lie to kick it)

Tell your mama, tell your daddy, tell your auntie

(You ain't got to lie to kick it) yeah-yeah

Tell your cousin, tell your sister if she want me

(You ain't got to lie to kick it)

Tell your mama, tell your daddy, tell your auntie

(You ain't got to lie to kick it)

Tell your cousin, tell your sister if she want me

(You ain't got to lie to kick it) you ain't got to lie to kick it

Yeah, you know I wrote this, right?

Yeah, I produced it

Yeah, everything the brother ever did, I did

It's me, you can trace it back to me

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I tell him how to dress

I tell him, remember, he had the jheri curl? I cut his hair

Yeah, that's right, yeah, I produced all his movies

We getting ready to do something new

We getting ready to do something new

Kind of like a Player's Club meets a Titanic

With a little touch of Fat Beach, yeah (you ain't got to lie to kick it)

Yeah, I think you'd be good in that, baby

I think you'd be mighty fine in that, yeah, yeah, yeah (you ain't got to lie to kick it)

Where to call me? Call me at

At Cube's house (my house?)

(You ain't got to lie to kick it)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, don't worry, don't worry about it (are you crazy?)

You know Cube owe me four million dollars

(You ain't got to lie to kick it)

If I let him wash my cars on the weekend

(You ain't got to lie to kick it) you alright, nigga?

Lying motherfuckers

(You ain't got to lie to kick it)