| Oh! |
| Yeah, nineteen ninety three
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| Ice motherfucking T in the place, you know what I’m saying?
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| Cold lounging with my nigga SLJ from Wrecked Dialect
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| You know what I mean? |
| (YEAH!!) melt microphone screams
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| Have to turn this motherfucker out, you know what I’m saying?
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| Yep, digging a profile
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| Yeah, check the technique whore, ha ha, I’ma do this
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| Brave Guts!
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| One, two, three, it’s time to flip with the O.G. |
| gangster
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| Banger, underground slanger of the murderous rhymes your moms hates
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| HUH! |
| mother fuck the K.K.K. |
| and Darrel Gates
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| Give me the microphone now, goddamn it, so I can blow it
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| Throw it, rip it, wreck it, pimp it, whore it (YEAH!!)
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| I’m about to take the fuck up, with this bullshit
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| Full clips spray from the hands of this convict
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| I’m not no nice nigga, I’m known not to smile at no bitch
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| How to think; |
| whores be thinking about getting rich!
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| I love these whores like money
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| Back on the streets, on a track the Iceberg Cheque plenty (WORD!!)
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| I got a bullet with your name on it, you want it?
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| Knock your grill, I’ll fill it with golden ponant
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| Oh! |
| my God, these niggaz hard, call the Bomb Squad
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| Too late, I detonate, I beliderate three states, GONE! |
| (BOOM!!)
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| I play Russian Roulette all alone
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| You got me mixed up with a nigga that gives a fuck!
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| You got me mixed up with a nigga that gives a FUCK!
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| How many emcees do I have to rot? |
| (ROT!!)
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| How many suckers do I have to drop? |
| (DROP!!)
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| How many tampers do I have to plot? |
| (PLOT!!)
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| Count them, how many rounds are in the glock? |
| (GLOCK!!)
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| Niggaz wanna test me, stress me
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| Well, they can’t handle this shit that kick, and that’s it
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| Cause they can’t catch the feat, that comes with the cleat
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| Or an A.K. |
| that I shot last week
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| Cause niggaz on the Ave, don’t really know the half
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| of my shit, so watch if, you might get stabbed
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| By the Rap plaque, who was trying to get paid
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| In this tray, and any nigga stepped gets sprayed
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| UHH! |
| by the verbal-lyrical, mystical, spirit-ual
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| Sucker play me wrong, now watch me get physical
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| I can’t give a fuck about the punk ass cops
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| I got a glock with the infrared dot on it’s knot (POP!!)
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| Don’t get me mixed up with a nigga that gives a fuck!
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| Don’t get him mixed up with a nigga that gives a fuck!
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| Don’t get me mixed up with a nigga that gives a fuck!!!
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| Ice, get on the mic and buck buck!
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| I fall in hate the way motherfuckers fall in love
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| I blew it in the sky as up above
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| But I’m in the gang no more, slang 'kane no more
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| Step to me wrong and your jaw meets a cobra (HUH!!)
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| I don’t give a fuck about nobody
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| Listen, if you like me, I love you, you hate me
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| I’m dissing them; |
| suckers, bitches, busters, whores
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| Can catch a bozack chased by a head crack
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| I love the duckings throughout these ghetto alleys by myself
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| Dressed in black so I’m stealth
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| Keep by glock beside me, Ski-Mask to hide me
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| And if I’m out to kill then now the assaults get by me (YEAH!!)
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| Niggaz wanna flip but I’m the wrong male
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| With the wrong hands, I thought you’re in fact, the young shorts foreman
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| Let’s go back to the old shit, old style
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| Ice motherfucking T on the mic buckwild (YEAH!!)
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| Don’t get me mixed up with a nigga that gives a fuck!
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| You got me mixed up with a nigga that gives a fuck!
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| You got me mixed up with a nigga that gives a fuck!
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| SLJ, get on the mic and destruct! |
| (YEAH!!)
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| Now watch me, grip up, zip up, split off suckers' heads
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| Who thought that I was soft (HUH!!) cause it’s ninety three
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| It’s time for me, to get a fat Cheque, ain’t that right boss? |
| (YEP!!)
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| Cause this game is strange, it’s just may change back to chains
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| Caressing ankles back to brains
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| Cause it’s backdoor, once again to the end
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| At this time, you might know whose your friends
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| So watch your back, and the sounds of the clack
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| Like other fool just succumbs to, who carries a gat (PING!!)
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| Who’s scheming, fiending, remember he’s a demon
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| Looking for the brothers who be straight disagreeing
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| Cause if he haven’t heard, who tried to dis the Iceberg
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| Last year, this year, we still no fear
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| Because we drop Ammo, that niggaz couldn’t handle
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| And after this blunt we still beget another scandal (YEAH!!) |
| Check the hood, check the hood for some real Gs
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| So many suckers, I need some niggaz to roll with me
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| To kick up some dust, drive-by and bust
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| I love God but it’s in GLOCK! |
| I fucking trust
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| I got a fucking Souleaf in my damn brain
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| And the shit is dripping out, I’m damn near insane
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| I don’t wanted to, but I gotta, and I shot her, then I chopped her
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| Then I packed her, then I stuffed her, then I rocked her (YEAH!!)
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| The bitch is so fucking good anyway
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| Snitched on my boys to the motherfucking D-E-A
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| What’s up? |
| — You wanna try to focus your sights on the Mic
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| This nigga can flip scripts all night
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| Yeah, I wreck shit nice, the microphone smokes like Tri-ice
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| Bang nigga, bang nigga, I’m a known gang figure
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| Killed so many bodies, need to make my trunk bigger (HUH!)
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| Dig a shallow grave on the side of the freeway
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| Yo, I don’t play and I’m ready to die today
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| Don’t get me mixed up with a nigga that gives a fuck!
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| Don’t get us mixed up with the niggaz that give a fuck!
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| Don’t get us mixed up with some niggaz that give a fuck!
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| Don’t get us mixed up with some niggaz that give a fuck!
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| YEAAAAAHHHH! |
| — Motherfucker!
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| The Syndicate’s in the motherfucking house!
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| Word them up! |