Artist: Ice-T f/ Donald D, Flavor Flav (Public Enemy) Album: O.G. Original Gangster Song: Mic Contract Typed by: firstname.lastname@example.org [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! [Break:] [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 [Break] [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! [Break] 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!!