Artist: Ice-T Album: Home Invasion Song: Ice M.F. T Typed by: dy_face@yahoo.com [Intro: Ice-T] Yeah! 1993, I'm back motherfucker; this is Ice-T Got my nigga Ice Cube in the motherfucking house Yeah! Up here in the Ammo Dump studios; I got my nigga Aladdin SLJ's in the motherfucking place, Thomas behind the mixing boards We're about to do this shit like this here! (OH! YEAH!) [Verse One: Ice-T] It's going down tonight in L.A. - buckshot and Uzis spray Microphone blower, the bitch checker, the whore wrecker Ice motherfucking T, nigga step to me But grab your whores quick Cause the Syndicate is throwing 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 ragging? Been a millionaire for years, still sagging Left pocket's stuffed with the U-Jazz grip 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 talking to me [Chorus: Ice-T] Ice, Ice motherfucking T Ice, Ice motherfucking T (OH! YEAH!) Ice, Ice motherfucking T Ice, Ice motherfucking T [Verse Two: Ice-T] Bush, Quayle and Clinton got a problem with me The motherfucking T I give less than a fuck about any of them Or their fucking police friends They'd like to take me out make me a goner They even trying to sweat Time Warner Why? - For telling 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're trying to fuck with the Ice, are you insane? This shit is bigger than me be warned It's the low before the storm And every fucking thing I write Is gonna be analyzed by somebody white [Chorus: Ice-T] [Verse Three: Ice-T] Run motherfucker, hide motherfucker, trip 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 Erny Minni Mynie Moe Blood is pouring out the naps of your afro It could be you, it could be you, could be you Could be your whole damn crew It happens real quick Screeching tires, next thing you're hit Your body is cold, your body is hot You feel your chest, you gasp for breath, you're shot And now your homies is tripping Looking for a Gat to put they clip in Street crime - That's the thing I bring Ice-T I rap BC, I sing, they call it controversy I call it truth with no mercy The beats are fat, 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 fucking face I ain't got no more time to waste A whore is a whore, a bitch is a bitch, a nigga is a nigga and that's it I'm through explaining the shit You're just making me backtrack The next duck reporter will get hit with a blackjack Plus, every one of my true fans totally understands A nigga like me [Chorus: Ice-T X2]