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Artist: Ice-T f/ Donald D, Flavor Flav (Public Enemy)
Album:  O.G. Original Gangster
Song:   Mic Contract
Typed by:

[Intro: Ice-T]
Yo man, I'm tired of these motherfuckers biting our shit
Word! yo tonight man,  I'm about to roll up on this club 
And put some motherfucking head out, word up!
Let's do this, you're with it?
Come on man, I got the motherfucking Ski Masks, you got the 16s?
Pack it up, yo, I'ma roll up on this club and when I leave  
Ain't nobody is gonna be breathing homies, FUCK THAT!

[Verse One: Ice-T]
Brainstorm, microphone napalm
This is it, words from a timebomb
Attack speed, fast as an F15
Raise the heat, light and the gasoline
Overload, it might cause a blackout!
Dead end, there's no chance to back out
Hit the tripwire, duck from the gunfire
Broken glass, screeching car tires
Bodies hit the deck, as I commence to wreck
Eject another clip and drip sweat
Face of danger, increasing anger
Point blank, I smoke another stranger
Grip the mic tight, I see the brake lights
Hit the back door, I lay down across the floor
E's on the wheels, he makes the rubber squeal
Blood's on my gear from caps I've peeled
About a block away, I sit up and looked back
It wasn't nothing but a Microphone Contract!

[Ice-T:] Alright everybody, just get on the motherfucking floor
[Donald] It's Syndicate, Fool!
[Ice-T:] All you punk ass MCs, try to push that goddamn wall
[Donald] Lynch Mob MOTHERFUCKERS!!!
Bring that Beat Back!! -----------> Chuck D

[Verse Two: Ice-T]
Dressed in black, I stalk my prey
Parabellum in a Leather AttacheŠ 
Low tones I speak, I speak to few
Just give me the money, and who the fuck to do?
Four blocks away my hand's clean, night scope on a silence carbine
Place my cross hairs on my vics eye
Squeeze the trigger, watch the brains fly
Violent? - Yeah, you could call me that
Insane? - You're on the right track
But turn the sounds up so I can stay amped
Do another crew and break camp
The only way I sleep, is in a cold sweat
You say I'm crazy? - you ain't seen shit yet
Cause I live to kill and kill for fun
The microphone, it goes off like a handgun
It's going down now, grab your girl hops
No excuses when the bodies begin to drop
Look in my face fool, it look like I'm playing?
Don't become another victim of mic slaying

[Ice-T:] Get on the Goddamn floor, goddamn it!
[Donald] Get the FUCK down!
[Ice-T:] Who the hell do you guys think you are?
You can't push me around, FUCK YOU! - you assholes

[Verse Three: Ice-T]
What's up? - you want your feet in some concrete?
I got some brothers that'll do you for your gold teeth
But most of the times I move, I move alone
Take a bat and break your motherfucking dome
Shoot you dead in the face with a sawed off
One hundred ten degrees, Ice don't get soft
Cause I'm hard as they come, I come correct
You can't handle the vandal hit eject
If not you better get out my face sucker
Or else you better be a good bullet ducker
Cause I'm a rip shots, til that ass drops
Five-O Ice, yo, FUCK the damn cops!
Cause I move hard and cold with the gangster stroll
By five thousand dollar suit and fly gold
Rolex, you can't fit no more Diamonds on it
Pinky ring worth a house if I decide to pawn it
What's up now chump? - you start to choke up?
You try to move on the Ice, you'll get broke up!

Attention all cars!! 
Requesting back up..
Request to get off the porch, they're all hostages, they're all hostages
Repeat, they're all hostages

Don't get too close because you might get shot -----> Erick Sermon

[Verse Four: Ice-T]
Midnight, time for a homicide
Showtime, somebody's gonna die
E hits the switch, and thousands of volts connect
With the weapon that's in my fist
I see a sucker in the third row trying to riff
A paragraph and a half he's stiff
I start busting off barrages ear high
Mothers grab for their children, tears fly
I'm like a psycho in the microphone zone
Speakers blown, mind gone
I can't be touched once my lyrics begin to fly
Simple stage radiation could make you die
You got a prob' nigga? - you think your rep's bigger?
Hold your heard right there while I squeeze the trigger
Cause I'm a crazy motherfucker that's no joke
My favorite smell is the aroma of gunsmoke
I'm busting off another lyrical nightmare
Parents hate the Ice! - you think that I care?
Well, I don't give a fuck, cause I rhyme tough
Drop science, still bust the ill stuff
So now it's time for crime and the rhyme is mine
Track the movement and hide from the punchline
I rhyme by fitness, microphone quickness
The assassinator, stay off the shit list!

[Outro: Flavor Flav]
Come On! getting stuck, yeah Y'all!!
Rock that shit homie!!
Come On! getting stuck, yeah Y'all!!
Come On! getting stuck, yeah Y'all!!
Rock that shit homie!! 
Come On! getting stuck!!