Ice M.f. T Testo

Testo Ice M.f. T

Muse, a luglio si esibiranno al Rock In Roma
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Yeah! 1993, I'm back motherfucker, this is Ice T.Got my nigga Ice Cube in the motherfuckin house.Yeah! Up here in the ammo dump studios I got mynigga Aladdin, SLJ's in the motherfuckin place,behind the mixin boards,we about to do dis shit like this here!It's goin down tonight in L.A.Buckshot and uzis sprayMicrophone blowaThe bitch checkaThe ho wreckaIce motherfuckin TNigga step to meBut grab ya hoes quickCause the Syndicate's throwin that crazy dickPunk motherfuckers run upYou'll get done upWe'll have your ass gunned upBefore sun-upSo what's the color I'm raggin?Been a millionare for yearsStill sagginLeft pocket's stuffed with the ???.380 in my right so it sags a little bitMore than the rest of my gearWhen I'm on tourI empty clipsBust lipsAnd break jawsCause I love to loc upSo punk motherfucker don't choke upWhen you're talkin to meChorus:Ice, Ice motherfuckin T (x4)Bush, Quail and Clinton got a problem with me:The motheruckin TI give less than a fuck about any of themOr their fuckin police friendsThey'd like to take me outMake me a gonerThey even tryin to sweat Time Warnerhy?For tellin the truth to the youthThat a lot of motherfuckers are hotAnd want police shot?You can't stop the shock (?)The fires are outBut the coals are still hotI got juice to bring painYou tryin to fuck with the IceAre you insane?This shit is bigger than meBe warnedIt's the calm before the stormAnd every fuckin thing I writeIs gonna be analyzed by somebody whiteChorusRun motherfucker, hide motherfucker, trip motherfucker, die motherfuckerYou don't give loveAnd you won't get lovedYou don't pushAnd you won't get shovedNo jokeI ain't here to laughI ain't here to cryBut every night of the weekOne of my homies dieEeny meeny mynie moeBlood's pourin out the naps of your afroIt could be youCould be youCould be youCould be your whole damn crewIt happens real quickScreechin tiresNext thing you're hitYour body's coldYour body's hotYou feel your chestYou gasp for breathYou're shotAnd now your homies is trippin'Lookin for a gat to put they clip inStreet crime-That's the thing I bring, Ice TI rap ??? singThey call it controversyI call it truth with no mercyThe beats are phat Ammo Dump tracksThe kind that make speakers crackNot made for squaresOr the weak punksThat made the bump trunksPress-Get the fuck out my fuckin faceI ain't got no more time to wasteA ho is a ho, a bitch is a bitch, a nigga is a niggaAnd that's itI'm through explainin the shitYou just makin me backtrackThe next duck reporter might get hit with a blackjackPlusEvery one of my true fansTotally understandsA nigga like meChorus (x2)

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