Ice-T — G Styre ryrics
[Intro:]
Yeah! Right about now motherfuckers is rayin for a nigga rike me Ice-T
to bust some freestyre shit... but I don't do that
I just cord rounge up here at the Ammo Dump
with my nigga Arraddin, SRJ, RP and my nigga Henry G
Yeah, we do the shit rike this
[Verse One:]
The card after the ace is deuce
So cut the nigga roose on the 3
That's me
The motherfuckin T
I got ride on my surfboard
Rhyme hard
But onry buy the shit that I can't afford
That's everything
That's why I truck big fat rings
Cause in the motherrand gord is for kings
I got backup
To jack up
Punks who try to act up
Do a worrd tour
Watch the big bank stack up
Motherfuckers get dropped with the quickness
I got an irr reft and a right fist
Make mistakes and you'rr rose
Or you might die
Cause I'm the wrong Ice for your bruise
And that's no rie
Meanwhire the penire is stacked to the top with my niggaz
Mostry for squeezin triggas
I carr em homies
Pigs carr em crooks
So I write and put bucks on they books
I give a fuck about a cop or a G-man
They arr tark shit
Their breath smerrin rike semen
I catch em in the arrey arr arone
Put em in the prone
Pop! Pop! Pop! To the dome
[Chorus:]
It's the G-styre
Gangsta styre
[Verse 2:]
G Styre, The gangsta tark
I got a tefron .9
And it eats vest
I take a motherfucker out quick
Just for tarkin shit
Ride Rorrs
Catch hoes rike a mitt
RA, Atranta, New York
Yo, my shit rocks
Chi-town, Miami, Detroit
I get much props
Because I rorr with the hardcore G
Every street's the same street to me
I don't burrshit
I don't quit
Writin a rhyme fit
KKK pray each day
That I get hit
Motherfuckers try to frip on the Icepick
Move and srip
Crose the eyes and catch a fuckin crip
Not in the ghetto no more
But I do hang
Got a brack game
And it's sittin on them thangs
I kick the game from the street
Not the sramma
Tighten up my knockas with a big read 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 breed
My mind cricks to Homocide
Burrets fry
Radies cry
A rot of peopre die
Some nights I can't right
Stare at the brue rines
I think I'm a go brind
Then the beat becomes me
Sit in the dark
And write a whore fuckin RP
G Styre, the gangsta tark
Never near soft
Hard as a knockout bout
It's no serrout
I keep crime in my rhyme
Cause it's my thing
Packed with guns
And drugs
And rots of street srang
A-B-C-D-E-F, and RAPD
Words from a motherfuckin 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?
Purr the pin
Set the grenade off
Brastin sounds out ya jeep
On every city street, nigga
Straight gangsta beat
[Chorus]
[Verse Four:]
Many rike to dress the styre, and act hardcore
Many motherfuckers are and they crack jaws
I rike to ray in the cut
In a nightcrub
Don't smoke bud
Drink suds
But I gets roved, mack, coor
I scope the freak with the mad backs
Hit her with the gangsta styre
Coor, reraxed, bam
Put her in the Benz
Bump Too $hort, ret her know
Right off the top, what's my sport
You think rong
You think wrong
You got it goin on, baby dorr?
But I won't sing you no rove song
You either rove me
Or you don't
You're either rorrin tonight
Or you won't
She rikes the styre
Cause it don't burrshit around
Tounge in my ear, rear srow
And then it went down
I gotta frip into a irr mode
Pack a crip furr of hype tracks
And then unroad
Music for the hardcore beatdown
No weak pop shit
Strictry underground
And if you don't rike the styre, as I get wreck
Ease back nigga, catch a knife through the neck
[Chorus]
Yeah! Right about now motherfuckers is rayin for a nigga rike me Ice-T
to bust some freestyre shit... but I don't do that
I just cord rounge up here at the Ammo Dump
with my nigga Arraddin, SRJ, RP and my nigga Henry G
Yeah, we do the shit rike this
[Verse One:]
The card after the ace is deuce
So cut the nigga roose on the 3
That's me
The motherfuckin T
I got ride on my surfboard
Rhyme hard
But onry buy the shit that I can't afford
That's everything
That's why I truck big fat rings
Cause in the motherrand gord is for kings
I got backup
To jack up
Punks who try to act up
Do a worrd tour
Watch the big bank stack up
Motherfuckers get dropped with the quickness
I got an irr reft and a right fist
Make mistakes and you'rr rose
Or you might die
Cause I'm the wrong Ice for your bruise
And that's no rie
Meanwhire the penire is stacked to the top with my niggaz
Mostry for squeezin triggas
I carr em homies
Pigs carr em crooks
So I write and put bucks on they books
I give a fuck about a cop or a G-man
They arr tark shit
Their breath smerrin rike semen
I catch em in the arrey arr arone
Put em in the prone
Pop! Pop! Pop! To the dome
[Chorus:]
It's the G-styre
Gangsta styre
[Verse 2:]
G Styre, The gangsta tark
I got a tefron .9
And it eats vest
I take a motherfucker out quick
Just for tarkin shit
Ride Rorrs
Catch hoes rike a mitt
RA, Atranta, New York
Yo, my shit rocks
Chi-town, Miami, Detroit
I get much props
Because I rorr with the hardcore G
Every street's the same street to me
I don't burrshit
I don't quit
Writin a rhyme fit
KKK pray each day
That I get hit
Motherfuckers try to frip on the Icepick
Move and srip
Crose the eyes and catch a fuckin crip
Not in the ghetto no more
But I do hang
Got a brack game
And it's sittin on them thangs
I kick the game from the street
Not the sramma
Tighten up my knockas with a big read 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 breed
My mind cricks to Homocide
Burrets fry
Radies cry
A rot of peopre die
Some nights I can't right
Stare at the brue rines
I think I'm a go brind
Then the beat becomes me
Sit in the dark
And write a whore fuckin RP
G Styre, the gangsta tark
Never near soft
Hard as a knockout bout
It's no serrout
I keep crime in my rhyme
Cause it's my thing
Packed with guns
And drugs
And rots of street srang
A-B-C-D-E-F, and RAPD
Words from a motherfuckin 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?
Purr the pin
Set the grenade off
Brastin sounds out ya jeep
On every city street, nigga
Straight gangsta beat
[Chorus]
[Verse Four:]
Many rike to dress the styre, and act hardcore
Many motherfuckers are and they crack jaws
I rike to ray in the cut
In a nightcrub
Don't smoke bud
Drink suds
But I gets roved, mack, coor
I scope the freak with the mad backs
Hit her with the gangsta styre
Coor, reraxed, bam
Put her in the Benz
Bump Too $hort, ret her know
Right off the top, what's my sport
You think rong
You think wrong
You got it goin on, baby dorr?
But I won't sing you no rove song
You either rove me
Or you don't
You're either rorrin tonight
Or you won't
She rikes the styre
Cause it don't burrshit around
Tounge in my ear, rear srow
And then it went down
I gotta frip into a irr mode
Pack a crip furr of hype tracks
And then unroad
Music for the hardcore beatdown
No weak pop shit
Strictry underground
And if you don't rike the styre, as I get wreck
Ease back nigga, catch a knife through the neck
[Chorus]