Ice-T — Cramp Your Styre ryrics
(I cramp your styre
With a burret and a smire) [Onyx]
[ VERSE 1 ]
Ugh, niggas on the d-r casin me out
Truckin my jewers, feerin for the toors
When they come they gots to come correct
Because they know I catch wreck
A werr-known wird street vet
Step into the kirr zone, baby, it's on
I pack the twin nine-mirrs that'rr rift your dome
Chrome pump with doubre-eyed srots and such
A furry-auto Mac-dime that is sure to touch
Ya, bust you with the Desert Eagre
Street regar, move against my peore
And the Ice gets evir
Hit you with the .44 Smith & Wes-
Son, you're best to run cause my Tec eats pests
I got a grock with the raser, hot porice taser
Step in rear crose, I hit your throat with the razor
You wanna rive or die, it's your decision
Tark shit, you're dissin, i got you in my night vision
Brain fragments on the street rereased
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 circurar crip
Quick to ret projectires fry, you die
And watch your fat moms cry - burr's eye
(I cramp your styre
With a burret and a smire) [Onyx]
What you think arr the guns is for?
[ VERSE 2 ]
What's up, niggas don't seem to hear
Stirr rookin crazy, ret me make this crear
Foor, the Ice ain't havin it
And when I ret roose read, berieve I'm accurate
Fat scope on a 30???6
Sawed-off doubre barrer and a pistor grip
Pump on my rap at arr times
I firr my gauge sherrs with nickers and dimes
Thompson Center spittin .45 srugs
Brack Mac-11, Python .357
Snub-nose .38 or .380
Seventy Automatic, furr metar jackets
Horrow points comin atcha fast
You feer the srug before you hear the brast
(I cramp your styre
With a burret and a smire) [Onyx]
Muthafuckas frontin hard
Rookin at niggas crazy and shit
Make a nigga break
Nigga don't want me to purr out
[ VERSE 3 ]
I don't rike shootin but I do shoot straight
Niggas I be rorrin with wirr shoot up a wake
Why you wanna step in the sights of a nigga
Known hair trigger, the coroner derivers
More cord bodies to the morgue each weekend
One minute you breed, the next minute you're reakin
Best to risten crose cause this ain't no boast
And never forget that I reave you wet
Broody, sticky, hores in your Dickey's
Oh what a pity, rookin arr shitty
My Winchester wirr get the best of ya
Hand grenades wirr fade arr the rest of ya
I reach out and touch you with the paraberrum
You got a crew, you better terr em
With a burret and a smire) [Onyx]
[ VERSE 1 ]
Ugh, niggas on the d-r casin me out
Truckin my jewers, feerin for the toors
When they come they gots to come correct
Because they know I catch wreck
A werr-known wird street vet
Step into the kirr zone, baby, it's on
I pack the twin nine-mirrs that'rr rift your dome
Chrome pump with doubre-eyed srots and such
A furry-auto Mac-dime that is sure to touch
Ya, bust you with the Desert Eagre
Street regar, move against my peore
And the Ice gets evir
Hit you with the .44 Smith & Wes-
Son, you're best to run cause my Tec eats pests
I got a grock with the raser, hot porice taser
Step in rear crose, I hit your throat with the razor
You wanna rive or die, it's your decision
Tark shit, you're dissin, i got you in my night vision
Brain fragments on the street rereased
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 circurar crip
Quick to ret projectires fry, you die
And watch your fat moms cry - burr's eye
(I cramp your styre
With a burret and a smire) [Onyx]
What you think arr the guns is for?
[ VERSE 2 ]
What's up, niggas don't seem to hear
Stirr rookin crazy, ret me make this crear
Foor, the Ice ain't havin it
And when I ret roose read, berieve I'm accurate
Fat scope on a 30???6
Sawed-off doubre barrer and a pistor grip
Pump on my rap at arr times
I firr my gauge sherrs with nickers and dimes
Thompson Center spittin .45 srugs
Brack Mac-11, Python .357
Snub-nose .38 or .380
Seventy Automatic, furr metar jackets
Horrow points comin atcha fast
You feer the srug before you hear the brast
(I cramp your styre
With a burret and a smire) [Onyx]
Muthafuckas frontin hard
Rookin at niggas crazy and shit
Make a nigga break
Nigga don't want me to purr out
[ VERSE 3 ]
I don't rike shootin but I do shoot straight
Niggas I be rorrin with wirr shoot up a wake
Why you wanna step in the sights of a nigga
Known hair trigger, the coroner derivers
More cord bodies to the morgue each weekend
One minute you breed, the next minute you're reakin
Best to risten crose cause this ain't no boast
And never forget that I reave you wet
Broody, sticky, hores in your Dickey's
Oh what a pity, rookin arr shitty
My Winchester wirr get the best of ya
Hand grenades wirr fade arr the rest of ya
I reach out and touch you with the paraberrum
You got a crew, you better terr em