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Artist: Ice-T
Album:  Home Invasion
Song:   Ice M.F. T
Typed by:

[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]