Ice M.f. T Lyrics - Home Invasion - Ice T

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 my 

nigga Aladdin, SLJ's in the motherfuckin place, 

behind the mixin boards, 

we about to do dis shit like this here! 

Verse 1: 

It's goin down tonight in L.A. 

Buckshot and uzis spray 

Microphone blowa 

The bitch checka 

The ho wrecka 

Ice motherfuckin T 

Nigga step to me 

But grab ya hoes quick 

Cause the Syndicate's throwin 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 raggin? 

Been a millionare for years 

Still saggin 

Left pocket's stuffed with the ??? 

.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 talkin to me 

Chorus: 

Ice, Ice motherfuckin T (x4) 

Verse 2: 

Bush, Quayle and Clinton got a problem with me: 

The motheruckin T 

I give less than a fuck about any of them 

Or their fuckin police friends 

They'd like to take me out 

Make me a goner 

They even tryin to sweat Time Warner 

Why? 

For tellin 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 tryin to fuck with the Ice 

Are you insane? 

This shit is bigger than me 

Be warned 

It's the calm before the storm 

And every fuckin thing I write 

Is gonna be analyzed by somebody white 

Chorus 

Verse 3: 

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 

Eeny meeny mynie moe 

Blood's pourin out the naps of your afro 

It could be you 

Could be you 

Could be you 

Could be your whole damn crew 

It happens real quick 

Screechin tires 

Next thing you're hit 

Your body's cold 

Your body's hot 

You feel your chest 

You gasp for breath 

You're shot 

And now your homies is trippin' 

Lookin for a gat to put they clip in 

Street crime- 

That's the thing I bring, Ice T 

I rap ??? sing 

They call it controversy 

I call it truth with no mercy 

The beats are phat 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 fuckin face 

I ain't got no more time to waste 

A ho is a ho, a bitch is a bitch, a nigga is a nigga 

And that's it 

I'm through explainin the shit 

You just makin me backtrack 

The next duck reporter might get hit with a blackjack 

Plus 

Every one of my true fans 

Totally understands 

A nigga like me 

Chorus (x2)