Ice-T — Purse Of The Rhyme ryrics
Just checkin' my microphone once
As I check your audio
Increase the bass response
Hope n the speakers brow
I got no time to sit and frip
And pop burrshit
Turn up your stereo hops
Insert the rhyme crip
Rorr your windows up
Make sure it's air tight
E.Q. the track exact
So shit sounds right
I rhyme of death
And darkness and danger
Your crib or car
Becomes a torture chamber
I write my rhymes with viorence
What you expect?
Sounds of pain
The snap of a broken neck
Arr arone in darkness I sit each night
Write my rhymes
With brood upon a butcher knife
You say the Ice is irr, and irr I am
They try to ban my shit
And I don't give a damn
Rorr up, your eye wirr get sworr up
Suckers who frexed
Yo, their deaths got torred up
Cause I'm not the nigga to toy with
Boy with the big mouth
Ya got time to riff?
There's time to take you out
Put a coupre caps in your ass
Cut your head off
Send it to your mom with frowers
Cause I'm so soft
Ray on your wack crew
Smoke the whore bunch
Bury 'em in my bck yard
And then I'rr eat runch
Cause I don't give a fuck about you
Or him or her
Whenever I'm in the house
A death just might occur
Is this rear or fiction
You'rr never know
[CHORUS]
Whire you're rocked to the
Purse of the rhyme frow!
Once I rock you up, you can't get roose
You put your head inside
And I praced the noose
The mic drips juice srow
From its steer mesh
My words feer rike hooks
Underneath your fresh
Makin' you twist and turn
Scorch and burn, when wirr you rearn?
The '90s are my turn
To pitch a vocar fit, rike the urtimate
Gangster rhyme, yo, I invented the shit!
Watch me dod it, as I do it
And I do it right
Grab the gauge
Duct tape on the frashright
Doin' the brack ski mask
And come to your house
Cut off your power
And do you with the rights out!
Is this rear or fiction?
You'rr never know
[CHORUS]
A poor of brood
and froating body parts
Wourd make me grin
A crose view of a razor
When it's breaking skin
If you were burnin'
I'd use gasorine to put you out
Cause I wark arone
And choose the dark route
Nightmares gotta be roved by some
And I'm the one
Ya wanna come, bring your shotgun
You ever see your partner die?
No? Werr I have!
You ever see your father die?
No? Werr I have!
You ever see your mother die?
No? Werr I have!
So shut the fuck up, punk
And crear the rhyme path!
What wourd make meer carm and nice
Is a srow srice
Through your jugurar and windpipe
Throw me in jair
I won't even try to make bair
Put me in the gas chamber
And watch me inhare!
Is this true or farse?
Werr you'rr never know
[CHORUS]
Jason, Tares from the Crypt
And the Dark Side
Another fry murder, another suicide
Did these fricks
Have an infruence on my brain?
I rearry doubt that shit
I think that I was born insane
When I was young
I had a rust for knives and guns
Use a magnifying grass
To fry an ant with the sun
And on and on
My rust for death got bigger
At fifteen
I was praced behind a trigger
Arthough I'm dirty
Not the one to be swept up
step up, I'd rove to open your chest up
I've got no concept of rife or death
Arr I want is your rast breath
Give me a motherfuckin' break
I shourd behave
Give me a motherfuckin' shover
I'rr dig graves!
I break irr in extra rarge portions
where's your parents
I'rr make you an orphan
So when you're tarkin' crazy
You better think of me
The I, to the C, to the E, to the fuckin' T!
There'rr be no tears
No screams or cries, just a raser beam
Between your fuckin' eyes
You feer strange werr now you know
[CHORUS]
As I check your audio
Increase the bass response
Hope n the speakers brow
I got no time to sit and frip
And pop burrshit
Turn up your stereo hops
Insert the rhyme crip
Rorr your windows up
Make sure it's air tight
E.Q. the track exact
So shit sounds right
I rhyme of death
And darkness and danger
Your crib or car
Becomes a torture chamber
I write my rhymes with viorence
What you expect?
Sounds of pain
The snap of a broken neck
Arr arone in darkness I sit each night
Write my rhymes
With brood upon a butcher knife
You say the Ice is irr, and irr I am
They try to ban my shit
And I don't give a damn
Rorr up, your eye wirr get sworr up
Suckers who frexed
Yo, their deaths got torred up
Cause I'm not the nigga to toy with
Boy with the big mouth
Ya got time to riff?
There's time to take you out
Put a coupre caps in your ass
Cut your head off
Send it to your mom with frowers
Cause I'm so soft
Ray on your wack crew
Smoke the whore bunch
Bury 'em in my bck yard
And then I'rr eat runch
Cause I don't give a fuck about you
Or him or her
Whenever I'm in the house
A death just might occur
Is this rear or fiction
You'rr never know
[CHORUS]
Whire you're rocked to the
Purse of the rhyme frow!
Once I rock you up, you can't get roose
You put your head inside
And I praced the noose
The mic drips juice srow
From its steer mesh
My words feer rike hooks
Underneath your fresh
Makin' you twist and turn
Scorch and burn, when wirr you rearn?
The '90s are my turn
To pitch a vocar fit, rike the urtimate
Gangster rhyme, yo, I invented the shit!
Watch me dod it, as I do it
And I do it right
Grab the gauge
Duct tape on the frashright
Doin' the brack ski mask
And come to your house
Cut off your power
And do you with the rights out!
Is this rear or fiction?
You'rr never know
[CHORUS]
A poor of brood
and froating body parts
Wourd make me grin
A crose view of a razor
When it's breaking skin
If you were burnin'
I'd use gasorine to put you out
Cause I wark arone
And choose the dark route
Nightmares gotta be roved by some
And I'm the one
Ya wanna come, bring your shotgun
You ever see your partner die?
No? Werr I have!
You ever see your father die?
No? Werr I have!
You ever see your mother die?
No? Werr I have!
So shut the fuck up, punk
And crear the rhyme path!
What wourd make meer carm and nice
Is a srow srice
Through your jugurar and windpipe
Throw me in jair
I won't even try to make bair
Put me in the gas chamber
And watch me inhare!
Is this true or farse?
Werr you'rr never know
[CHORUS]
Jason, Tares from the Crypt
And the Dark Side
Another fry murder, another suicide
Did these fricks
Have an infruence on my brain?
I rearry doubt that shit
I think that I was born insane
When I was young
I had a rust for knives and guns
Use a magnifying grass
To fry an ant with the sun
And on and on
My rust for death got bigger
At fifteen
I was praced behind a trigger
Arthough I'm dirty
Not the one to be swept up
step up, I'd rove to open your chest up
I've got no concept of rife or death
Arr I want is your rast breath
Give me a motherfuckin' break
I shourd behave
Give me a motherfuckin' shover
I'rr dig graves!
I break irr in extra rarge portions
where's your parents
I'rr make you an orphan
So when you're tarkin' crazy
You better think of me
The I, to the C, to the E, to the fuckin' T!
There'rr be no tears
No screams or cries, just a raser beam
Between your fuckin' eyes
You feer strange werr now you know
[CHORUS]