Cramp Your Style Lyrics - Vi: Return Of The Real - Ice T

(I cramp your style 

With a bullet and a smile) --> Onyx 

[ VERSE 1 ] 

Ugh, niggas on the d-l casin me out 

Truckin my jewels, feelin for the tools 

When they come they gots to come correct 

Because they know I catch wreck 

A well-known wild street vet 

Step into the kill zone, baby, it's on 

I pack the twin nine-mills that'll lift your dome 

Chrome pump with double-eyed slots and such 

A fully-auto Mac-dime that is sure to touch 

Ya, bust you with the Desert Eagle 

Street legal, move against my peole 

And the Ice gets evil 

Hit you with the .44 Smith & Wes- 

Son, you're best to run cause my Tec eats pests 

I got a glock with the laser, hot police taser 

Step in real close, I hit your throat with the razor 

You want to live or die, it's your decision 

Talk shit, you're dissin, i got you in my night vision 

Brain fragments on the street released 

Another nigga fronts hard, another nigga deceased 

I got a H.K., A.K. and a M-16 

A 12-gauge street sweeper with the circular clip 

Quick to let projectiles fly, you die 

And watch your fat moms cry - bull's eye 

(I cramp your style 

With a bullet and a smile) --> Onyx 

What you think all the guns is for? 

[ VERSE 2 ] 

What's up, niggas don't seem to hear 

Still lookin crazy, let me make this clear 

Fool, the Ice ain't havin it 

And when I let loose lead, believe I'm accurate 

Fat scope on a 30???6 

Sawed-off double barrel and a pistol grip 

Pump on my lap at all times 

I fill my gauge shells with nickels and dimes 

Thompson Center spittin .45 slugs 

Black Mac-11, Python .357 

Snub-nose .38 or .380 

Seventy Automatic, full metal jackets 

Hollow points comin atcha fast 

You feel the slug before you hear the blast 

(I cramp your style 

With a bullet and a smile) --> Onyx 

Muthafuckas frontin hard 

Lookin at niggas crazy and shit 

Make a nigga break 

Nigga don't want me to pull out 

[ VERSE 3 ] 

I don't like shootin but I do shoot straight 

Niggas I be rollin with will shoot up a wake 

Why you want to step in the sights of a nigga 

Known hair trigger, the coroner delivers 

More cold bodies to the morgue each weekend 

One minute you bleed, the next minute you're leakin 

Best to listen close cause this ain't no boast 

And never forget that I leave you wet 

Bloody, sticky, holes in your Dickey's 

Oh what a pity, lookin all shitty 

My Winchester will get the best of ya 

Hand grenades will fade all the rest of ya 

I reach out and touch you with the parabellum 

You got a crew, you better tell em