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- Singer Intro
Ice-T( Tracy Lauren Marrow )
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Ice MF. T
Lyricist:Alphonso Henderson, Tracy L Marrow
Yeah, 1993, I'm back motherfucker, this is Ice T Got my nigga Ice Cube in the motherfuckin' house Yeah, up here in the ammo dump studios I got my Nigga Aladdin, SLJ's in the motherfuckin' place Behind the mixin' boards, we about to do dis shit like this here
It's goin' down tonight in L.A. buckshot and Uzis spray Microphone blowa, the bitch checka The ho wrecka Ice motherfuckin' T
Nigga step to me but grab ya hoes quick 'Cause the Syndicate's throwin' that crazy dick Punk motherfuckers run up you'll get done up We'll have your ass gunned up before sun up
So what's the color I'm raggin'? Been a millionaire 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 motherfucker don't choke up When you're talkin' to me
Ice, Ice motherfuckin' T, Ice, Ice motherfuckin' T Ice, Ice motherfuckin' T, Ice, Ice motherfuckin' T
Bush, Quayle and Clinton got a problem with me The motheruckin' T, I give less than a fuck about Any of them or their fuckin' 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 motherfuckers 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 fuck With the Ice, are you insane? This shit is bigger than me, be warned
It's the calm before the storm And every fuckin' thing I write Is gonna be analyzed by somebody white
Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com Ice, Ice motherfuckin' T, Ice, Ice motherfuckin' T Ice, Ice motherfuckin' T, Ice, Ice motherfuckin' T
Run motherfucker, hide motherfucker Rip motherfucker, die motherfucker 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 fuck out my fuckin' face I ain't got no more time to waste
A ho is a ho, a bitch is a bitch, 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
Ice, Ice motherfuckin' T, Ice, Ice motherfuckin' T Ice, Ice motherfuckin' T, Ice, Ice motherfuckin' T
Ice, Ice motherfuckin' T, Ice, Ice motherfuckin' T Ice, Ice motherfuckin' T, Ice, Ice motherfuckin' T
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