Ice-t - G-Style lyrics

[Intro:] Yeah! Right about now motherf**ers is layin for a n***a like me Ice-T to bust some freestyle sh**... but I don't do that I just cold lounge up here at the Ammo Dump with my n***a Alladdin, SLJ, LP and my n***a Henry G Yeah, we do the sh** like this [Verse One:] The card after the ace is deuce So cut the n***a loose on the 3 That's me The motherf**in T I got ride on my surfboard Rhyme hard But only buy the sh** that I can't afford That's everything That's why I truck big fat rings Cause in the motherland gold is for kings I got backup To jack up Punks who try to act up Do a world tour Watch the big bank stack up Motherf**ers get dropped with the quickness I got an ill left and a right fist Make mistakes and you'll lose Or you might die Cause I'm the wrong Ice for your bruise And that's no lie Meanwhile the penile is stacked to the top with my n***az Mostly for squeezin triggas I call em homies Pigs call em crooks So I write and put bucks on they books I give a f** about a cop or a G-man They all talk sh** Their breath smellin like semen I catch em in the alley all alone Put em in the prone Pop! Pop! Pop! To the dome [Chorus:] It's the G-style Gangsta style [Verse 2:] G Style, The gangsta talk I got a teflon .9 And it eats vest I take a motherf**er out quick Just for talkin sh** Ride Rolls Catch hoes like a mitt LA, Atlanta, New York Yo, my sh** rocks Chi-town, Miami, Detroit I get much props Because I roll with the hardcore G Every street's the same street to me I don't bullsh** I don't quit Writin a rhyme fit KKK pray each day That I get hit Motherf**ers try to flip on the Icepick Move and slip Close the eyes and catch a f**in clip Not in the ghetto no more But I do hang Got a black game And it's sittin on them thangs I kick the game from the street Not the slamma Tighten up my knockas with a big lead hammer [Chorus] [Verse Three:] Some of the times I write my raps with extreme speed Some of the times I take the pen and make pads bleed My mind clicks to h*mocide Bullets fly Ladies cry A lot of people die Some nights I can't right Stare at the blue lines I think I'm a go blind Then the beat becomes me Sit in the dark And write a whole f**in LP G Style, the gangsta talk Never near soft Hard as a knockout bout It's no sellout I keep crime in my rhyme Cause it's my thing Packed with guns And d** And lots of street slang A-B-C-D-E-F, and LAPD Words from a motherf**in OG Ammo Dump pumps the sounds that you bump in your trunk So turn it up punk What'cha fraid of? What'cha made of? Pull the pin Set the grenade off Blastin sounds out ya jeep On every city street, n***a Straight gangsta beat [Chorus] [Verse Four:] Many like to dress the style, and act hardcore Many motherf**ers are and they crack jaws I like to lay in the cut In a nightclub Don't smoke bud Drink suds But I gets loved, mack, cool I scope the freak with the mad backs Hit her with the gangsta style Cool, relaxed, bam Put her in the Benz Bump Too $hort, let her know Right off the top, what's my sport You think long You think wrong You got it goin on, baby doll? But I won't sing you no love song You either love me Or you don't You're either rollin tonight Or you won't She likes the style Cause it don't bullsh** around Tounge in my ear, real slow And then it went down I gotta flip into a ill mode Pack a clip full of hype tracks And then unload Music for the hardcore beatdown No weak pop sh** Strictly underground And if you don't like the style, as I get wreck Ease back n***a, catch a knife through the neck [Chorus]