Ice M.F. T - ICE-T

Yeah 1993 I'm back motherf**ker this is ice T

Got my niggle ice cube in the motherf**king house

Yeah up here in the ammo dump studios I got my

Niggle Aladdin slaw's in the motherf**king place

Behind the mixing boards

We about to do dis sh*t like this here

It's going down tonight in L.A

Buckshot and Uzis spray

Microphone blow a

The b**ch check a

The ho wreck a

Ice motherf**king T

Niggle step to me

But grab ya hoes quick

Cause the syndicate's throwing that crazy dick

Punk motherf**keys run up

You'll get done up

We'll have your a** gunned up

Before sun up

So what's the color I'm ragging

Been a millionaire for years

Still sagging

Left pocket's stuffed with the

380 in my right so it sags a little bit

More than the rest of my gear

When I'm on tour

I empty clips

Bust lips

And break jaws

Cause I love to lac up

So punk motherf**ker don't choke up

When you're talking to me

Ice ice motherf**king T

Ice ice motherf**king T

Ice ice motherf**king T

Ice ice motherf**king T

Bush Quayle and Clinton got a problem with me

The motherf**king T

I give less than a f**k about any of them

Or their f**kin police friends

They'd like to take me out

Make me a goner

They even trying to sweat time warmer

Why

For telling the truth to the youth

That a lot of motherf**keys are hot

And want police shot

You can't stop the shock

The fires are out

But the coals are still hot

I got juice to bring pain

You trying to f**k with the ice

Are you insane

This sh*t is bigger than me

Be warned

It's the calm before the storm

And every f**king thing I write

Is gonna be analyzed by somebody white

As as motherf**king T as as motherf**king T

As as motherf**king T as as motherf**king T

Run motherf**ker hide motherf**ker trip motherf**ker die motherf**ker

You don't give love

And you won't get loved

You don't push

And you won't get shoved

No joke

I ain't here to laugh

I ain't here to cry

But every night of the week

One of my homes die

Deny meany Minnie Moe

Blood's pouring out the naps of your Afro

It could be you

Could be you

Could be you

Could be your whole damn crew

It happens real quick

Screeching tires

Next thing you're hit

Your body's cold

Your body's hot

You feel your chest

You gasp for breath

You're shot

And now your homes is tripping

Looking for a gait to put they clip in

Street crime

That's the thing I bring ice T

I rap sing

They call it controversy

I call it truth with no mercy

The beats are phat ammo dump tracks

The kind that make speakers crack

Not made for squares

Or the weak punks

That made the bump trunks

Press

Get the f**k out my f**king face

I ain't got no more time to waste

A ho is a ho a b**ch is a b**ch a niggle is a niggle

And that's it

I'm through explaining the sh*t

You just making me backtrack

The next duck reporter might get hit with a blackjack

Plus

Every one of my true fans

Totally understands

A niggle like me

As as motherf**king T

As as motherf**king T

As as motherf**king T

As as motherf**king T

As as motherf**king T

As as motherf**king T

As as motherf**king T

As as motherf**king T