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[ VERSE 1 ]
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Ugh, niggas on the d-l casin me out
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Truckin my jewels, feelin for the tools
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When they come they gots to come correct
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Because they know I catch wreck
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A well-known wild street vet
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Step into the kill zone, baby, it's on
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I pack the twin nine-mills that'll lift your dome
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Chrome pump with double-eyed slots and such
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A fully-auto Mac-dime that is sure to touch
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Ya, bust you with the Desert Eagle
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Street legal, move against my peole
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And the Ice gets evil
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Hit you with the .44 Smith & Wes-
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Son, you're best to run cause my Tec eats pests
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I got a glock with the laser, hot police taser
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Step in real close, I hit your throat with the razor
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You wanna live or die, it's your decision
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Talk shit, you're dissin, i got you in my night vision
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Brain fragments on the street released
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Another nigga fronts hard, another nigga deceased
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I got a H.K., A.K. and a M-16
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A 12-gauge street sweeper with the circular clip
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Quick to let projectiles fly, you die
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And watch your fat moms cry - bull's eye
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(I cramp your style
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With a bullet and a smile) --> Onyx
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What you think all the guns is for?
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[ VERSE 2 ]
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What's up, niggas don't seem to hear
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Still lookin crazy, let me make this clear
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Fool, the Ice ain't havin it
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And when I let loose lead, believe I'm accurate
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Fat scope on a 30???6
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Sawed-off double barrel and a pistol grip
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Pump on my lap at all times
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I fill my gauge shells with nickels and dimes
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Thompson Center spittin .45 slugs
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Black Mac-11, Python .357
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Snub-nose .38 or .380
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Seventy Automatic, full metal jackets
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Hollow points comin atcha fast
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You feel the slug before you hear the blast
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(I cramp your style
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With a bullet and a smile) --> Onyx
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Muthafuckas frontin hard
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Lookin at niggas crazy and shit
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Make a nigga break
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Nigga don't want me to pull out
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[ VERSE 3 ]
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I don't like shootin but I do shoot straight
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Niggas I be rollin with will shoot up a wake
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Why you wanna step in the sights of a nigga
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Known hair trigger, the coroner delivers
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More cold bodies to the morgue each weekend
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One minute you bleed, the next minute you're leakin
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Best to listen close cause this ain't no boast
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And never forget that I leave you wet
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Bloody, sticky, holes in your Dickey's
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Oh what a pity, lookin all shitty
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My Winchester will get the best of ya
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Hand grenades will fade all the rest of ya
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I reach out and touch you with the parabellum
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You got a crew, you better tell em
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Cramp Your Style
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| Ice T |
