Ice T - G Style Lyrics
Intro:Yeah! right about now mother*****ers is layin for a nigga like me ice-tTo bust some freestyle shit... but I dont do thatI just cold lounge up here at the ammo dumpWith my nigga alladdin, slj, lp and my nigga henry gYeah, we do the shit like thisVerse one:The card after the ace is deuceSo cut the nigga loose on the 3Thats meThe mother*****in tI got ride on my surfboardRhyme hardBut only buy the shit that I cant affordThats everythingThats why I truck big fat ringsCause in the motherland gold is for kingsI got backupTo jack upPunks who try to act upDo a world tourWatch the big bank stack upMother*****ers get dropped with the quicknessI got an ill left and a right fistMake mistakes and youll loseOr you might dieCause Im the wrong ice for your bruiseAnd thats no lieMeanwhile the penile is stacked to the top with my niggazMostly for squeezin triggasI call em homiesPigs call em crooksSo I write and put bucks on they booksI give a ***** about a cop or a g-manThey all talk shitTheir breath smellin like semenI catch em in the alley all alonePut em in the pronePop! pop! pop! to the domeChorus:Its the g-styleGangsta styleVerse 2:G style, the gangsta talkI got a teflon .9And it eats vestI take a mother*****er out quickJust for talkin shitRide rollsCatch hoes like a mittLa, atlanta, new yorkYo, my shit rocksChi-town, miami, detroitI get much propsBecause I roll with the hardcore gEvery streets the same street to meI dont bullshitI dont quitWritin a rhyme fitKkk pray each dayThat I get hitMother*****ers try to flip on the icepickMove and slipClose the eyes and catch a *****in clipNot in the ghetto no moreBut I do hangGot a black gameAnd its sittin on them thangsI kick the game from the streetNot the slammaTighten up my knockas with a big lead hammerChorusVerse three:Some of the timesI write my raps with extreme speedSome of the timesI take the pen and make pads bleedMy mind clicks to homocideBullets flyLadies cryA lot of people dieSome nights I cant rightStare at the blue linesI think Im a go blindThen the beat becomes meSit in the darkAnd write a whole *****in lpG style, the gangsta talkNever near softHard as a knockout boutIts no selloutI keep crime in my rhymeCause its my thingPacked with gunsAnd drugsAnd lots of street slangA-b-c-d-e-f, and lapdWords from a mother*****in ogAmmo dump pumps the sounds that you bump in your trunkSo turn it up punkWhatcha fraid of?Whatcha made of?Pull the pinSet the grenade offBlastin sounds out ya jeepOn every city street, niggaStraight gangsta beatChorusVerse four:Many like to dress the style, and act hardcoreMany mother*****ers are and they crack jawsI like to lay in the cutIn a nightclubDont smoke budDrink sudsBut I gets loved, mack, coolI scope the freak with the mad backsHit her with the gangsta styleCool, relaxed, bamPut her in the benzBump too $hort, let her knowRight off the top, whats my sportYou think longYou think wrongYou got it goin on, baby doll?But I wont sing you no love songYou either love meOr you dontYoure either rollin tonightOr you wontShe likes the styleCause it dont bullshit aroundTounge in my ear, real slowAnd then it went downI gotta flip into a ill modePack a clip full of hype tracksAnd then unloadMusic for the hardcore beatdownNo weak pop shitStrictly undergroundAnd if you dont like the style, as I get wreckEase back nigga, catch a knife through the neckChorus
