Ice T - Ice M.f. T Lyrics
Yeah! 1993, i'm back mother*****er, this is ice t.Got my nigga ice cube in the mother*****in house.Yeah! up here in the ammo dump studios i got myNigga aladdin, slj's in the mother*****in place,Behind the mixin boards,We about to do dis shit like this here!Verse 1:It's goin down tonight in l.a.Buckshot and uzis sprayMicrophone blowaThe ***** checkaThe ho wreckaIce mother*****in tNigga step to meBut grab ya hoes quickCause the syndicate's throwin that crazy dickPunk mother*****ers run upYou'll get done upWe'll have your ass gunned upBefore sun-upSo what's the color i'm raggin?Been a millionare for yearsStill sagginLeft pocket's stuffed with the ???.380 in my right so it sags a little bitMore than the rest of my gearWhen i'm on tourI empty clipsBust lipsAnd break jawsCause i love to loc upSo punk mother*****er don't choke upWhen you're talkin to meChorus:Ice, ice mother*****in t (x4)Verse 2:Bush, quayle and clinton got a problem with me:The motheruckin tI give less than a ***** about any of themOr their *****in police friendsThey'd like to take me outMake me a gonerThey even tryin to sweat time warnerWhy?For tellin the truth to the youthThat a lot of mother*****ers are hotAnd want police shot?You can't stop the shock (?)The fires are outBut the coals are still hotI got juice to bring painYou tryin to ***** with the iceAre you insane?This shit is bigger than meBe warnedIt's the calm before the stormAnd every *****in thing i writeIs gonna be analyzed by somebody whiteChorusVerse 3:Run mother*****er, hide mother*****er, trip mother*****er, die mother*****erYou don't give loveAnd you won't get lovedYou don't pushAnd you won't get shovedNo jokeI ain't here to laughI ain't here to cryBut every night of the weekOne of my homies dieEeny meeny mynie moeBlood's pourin out the naps of your afroIt could be youCould be youCould be youCould be your whole damn crewIt happens real quickScreechin tiresNext thing you're hitYour body's coldYour body's hotYou feel your chestYou gasp for breathYou're shotAnd now your homies is trippin'Lookin for a gat to put they clip inStreet crime-That's the thing i bring, ice tI rap ??? singThey call it controversyI call it truth with no mercyThe beats are phat ammo dump tracksThe kind that make speakers crackNot made for squaresOr the weak punksThat made the bump trunksPress-Get the ***** out my *****in faceI ain't got no more time to wasteA ho is a ho, a ***** is a *****, a nigga is a niggaAnd that's itI'm through explainin the shitYou just makin me backtrackThe next duck reporter might get hit with a blackjackPlusEvery one of my true fansTotally understandsA nigga like meChorus (x2)
