Ice M.f. T lyrics

Artist  : Ice-t 
Song : Ice M.f. T



 Send "Ice M.f. T" Ringtone to your Cell 

 Yeah!  1993, I'm back motherf**ker, this is Ice T.
Got my nigga Ice Cube in the motherf**kin house. 

Yeah!  Up here in the ammo dump studios I got my
nigga Aladdin, SLJ's in the motherf**kin place, 
behind the mixin boards,
we about to do dis sh*t like this here!

[Verse 1:]

It's goin down tonight in L.A.
Buckshot and uzis spray
Microphone blowa
The bit*h checka
The ho wrecka
Ice motherf**kin T
Nigga step to me
But grab ya hoes quick
Cause the Syndicate's throwin that crazy dick
Punk motherf**kers run up
You'll get done up
We'll have your as* gunned up
Before sun-up
So what's the color I'm raggin?
Been a millionare for years
Still saggin
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 loc up
So punk motherf**ker don't choke up
When you're talkin to me

[Chorus:]

Ice, Ice motherf**kin T [x4]

[Verse 2:]

Bush, Quayle and Clinton got a problem with me:
The motheruckin 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 tryin to sweat Time Warner
Why?
For tellin the truth to the youth
That a lot of motherf**kers 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 tryin 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**kin thing I write
Is gonna be analyzed by somebody white

[Chorus]

[Verse 3:]

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 homies die
Eeny meeny mynie moe
Blood's pourin 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
Screechin 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 homies is trippin'
Lookin for a gat 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**kin face
I ain't got no more time to waste
A ho is a ho, a bit*h is a bit*h, a nigga is a
nigga
And that's it
I'm through explainin the shit
You just makin me backtrack
The next duck reporter might get hit with a
blackjack
Plus
Every one of my true fans
Totally understands
A nigga like me

[Chorus (x2)]