| 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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| 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 a huge ass brick
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| .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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| Ice, Ice motherfuckin T (x4)
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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 lull 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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| 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 easy, I 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
|
| A nigga like me |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Ice M.F.T , by - Ice T. Song from the album Home Invasion (Includes 'The Last Temptation Of Ice'), in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп