| Brainstorm microphone napalm
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| This is it, words from a timebomb
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| Attack speed, fast as an F15
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| Raise the heat, light thhe gasoline
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| Overload, it might cause a blackout
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| Dead end
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| There’s no chnce to back out
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| Hit the tripwire
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| Duck from the gunfire
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| Broken glass, screech’n car tires, bodies hit the deck
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| As I commence to wreck
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| Eject another clip and drip sweat
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| Face of danger, increasin’nger
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| Point blank
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| I smoke another stranger
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| Grip the mic tight
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| I see the brake lights
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| Hit the back door
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| I lay down cross the floor
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| E’s on the wheels
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| He makes the rubber squel
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| Blood’s on my gear
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| From caps I’ve peeled
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| About a block away I sit up Look back
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| It wasn’t nothin’but a Microphone contract!
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| Dressed in black I stalk my prey
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| Parabellum in a leather attache
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| Low tones I speak, I speak to few
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| Just give me the money
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| and who the fuck to do Four blocks away my aim’s clean
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| Night scope on a silence carbine
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| Place my crosshairs on my vic’s eye
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| Squeeze the trigger
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| Watch the brains fly
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| Violent? |
| Yeah you could call me that
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| Insane? |
| You’re on the right track
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| But turn the sounds up So I can stay amped
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| Do another crew and breaak camp
|
| The only way I sleep is in a cold sweat
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| You think I’m crazy?
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| You ain’t see shit yet
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| Cause I love to kill and kill for fun
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| The microphone goes off
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| Like a handgun
|
| It’s goin’down now
|
| Grab your girl hops
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| No excuses when the bodies
|
| begin to drop
|
| Look in my face fool
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| It look like I’m play’n
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| Don’t become another
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| Victim of mic slayin'
|
| What’s up?
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| You want your feet in some concrete?
|
| I got some brothers
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| That’ll do you for gold teeth
|
| But most the time I move, I move alone
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| Take a bat
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| Break your motherfuckin’dome
|
| Shoot you dead in the face
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| With a sawed off
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| One hundred ten degrees
|
| Ice don’t get soft
|
| Cause I’m hard as they come
|
| I come correct
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| You can’t handle the vandal hit eject
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| If not you better get
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| Out my face sucka
|
| Or else you better be A good bullet ducker
|
| Cause I’m a rip shop
|
| Tell that ass drop
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| Five o Ice, yo fuck a damn cop!
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| Cause I move hard and cold
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| With a gangster stroll
|
| Five thousand dollar suits
|
| And fly gold
|
| Rolex, you can’t fit no more
|
| Diamonds on it Pinky ring, worth a house
|
| If I decide to pwn it What’s up now punk?
|
| Yo start to choke up?
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| You try to move on the Ice
|
| You’ll get broke up!
|
| Midnight, time for a homicide
|
| Showtime, somebody’s gonna die
|
| E hits the switch
|
| And thouands of volts connect
|
| With the weapon that’s in my fist
|
| I see a sucka in the third row
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| Try’n to riff
|
| A paragraph and a half he’s stiff
|
| I start bustin’off barrages ear high
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| Mothers grab for their children
|
| Tears fly
|
| I’m like a psycho
|
| In the mircrophone zone
|
| Speakers blown, mind gone
|
| I can’t be touched
|
| Once my lyrics begin to fly
|
| Simple stage radiation
|
| Could make ya die
|
| Ya got a prob nigga
|
| you think your rep’s bigger?
|
| Hold your heard right there
|
| While I squeeze the trigger
|
| Cause I’m a crazy motherfucker
|
| That’s no joke
|
| My favorite smell is The aroma of gunsmoke
|
| I’m bustin’off another
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| Lyrical nightmare
|
| Parents hate the Ice!
|
| You think that I care?
|
| Well I don’t give a fuck
|
| Cause I rhyme tough
|
| Drop science, still bust the ill stuff
|
| So now it’s time for crime
|
| And the rhyme is mine
|
| Track the movement
|
| Hide from the punchline
|
| I rhyme with quickness
|
| Microphone fitness
|
| The assassinator
|
| Stay off the shit list |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Mic Contract, artist - Ice T. Album song The Complete Sire Albums 1987 - 1991, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп