Lyrics Language: English Song writer/composer(s): Alphonso Henderson, Tracy L Marrow
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Ice-TIce MF. T Lyrics:
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
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
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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