Yeah! 1993, I'm back motherfucker, this is Ice T.
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Got my nigga Ice Cube in the motherfuckin house.
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Yeah! Up here in the ammo dump studios I got my
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nigga Aladdin, SLJ's in the motherfuckin place,
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behind the mixin boards,
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we about to do dis shit like this here!
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[Verse 1:]
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It's goin down tonight in L.A.
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Buckshot and uzis spray
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Microphone blowa
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The bitch checka
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The ho wrecka
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Ice motherfuckin T
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Nigga step to me
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But grab ya hoes quick
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Cause the Syndicate's throwin that crazy dick
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Punk motherfuckers run up
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You'll get done up
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We'll have your ass gunned up
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Before sun-up
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So what's the color I'm raggin?
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Been a millionare for years
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Still saggin
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Left pocket's stuffed with the ???.380 in my right so it sags a little bit
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More than the rest of my gear
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When I'm on tour
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I empty clips
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Bust lips
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And break jaws
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Cause I love to loc up
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So punk motherfucker don't choke up
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When you're talkin to me
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[Chorus:]
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Ice, Ice motherfuckin T [x4]
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[Verse 2:]
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Bush, Quayle and Clinton got a problem with me:
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The motheruckin T
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I give less than a fuck about any of them
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Or their fuckin police friends
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They'd like to take me out
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Make me a goner
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They even tryin to sweat Time Warner
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Why?
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For tellin the truth to the youth
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That a lot of motherfuckers are hot
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And want police shot?
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You can't stop the shock (?)
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The fires are out
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But the coals are still hot
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I got juice to bring pain
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You tryin to fuck with the Ice
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Are you insane?
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This shit is bigger than me
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Be warned
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It's the calm before the storm
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And every fuckin thing I write
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Is gonna be analyzed by somebody white
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[Chorus]
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[Verse 3:]
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Run motherfucker, hide motherfucker, trip motherfucker, die motherfucker
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You don't give love
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And you won't get loved
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You don't push
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And you won't get shoved
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No joke
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I ain't here to laugh
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I ain't here to cry
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But every night of the week
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One of my homies die
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Eeny meeny mynie moe
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Blood's pourin out the naps of your afro
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It could be you
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Could be you
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Could be you
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Could be your whole damn crew
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It happens real quick
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Screechin tires
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Next thing you're hit
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Your body's cold
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Your body's hot
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You feel your chest
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You gasp for breath
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You're shot
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And now your homies is trippin'
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Lookin for a gat to put they clip in
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Street crime-
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That's the thing I bring, Ice T
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I rap ??? sing
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They call it controversy
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I call it truth with no mercy
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The beats are phat Ammo Dump tracks
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The kind that make speakers crack
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Not made for squares
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Or the weak punks
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That made the bump trunks
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Press-
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Get the fuck out my fuckin face
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I ain't got no more time to waste
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A ho is a ho, a bitch is a bitch, a nigga is a nigga
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And that's it
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I'm through explainin the shit
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You just makin me backtrack
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The next duck reporter might get hit with a blackjack
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Plus
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Every one of my true fans
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Totally understands
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A nigga like me
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[Chorus (x2)]
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-----------------
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Ice M.F. T
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| Ice-T |
