G Style Lyrics
G Style by Ice-T
Intro: Yeah! Right about now motherf**kers is layin for a nigga like me Ice-T to bust some freestyle sh*t... but I don't do that I just cold lounge up here at the Ammo Dump with my nigga Alladdin, SLJ, LP and my nigga Henry G Yeah, we do the sh*t like this Verse One: The card after the ace is deuce So cut the nigga loose on the 3 The motherf**kin T That's me I got ride on my surfboard Rhyme hard But only buy the sh*t that I can't afford That's everything Cause in the motherland gold is for kings That's why I truck big fat rings I got backup To jack up Punks who try to act up Do a world tour Motherf**kers get dropped with the quickness Watch the big bank stack up I got an I'll left and a right fist Make mistakes and you'll lose Or you might die Cause I'm the wrong Ice for your bruise And that's no lie Meanwhile the penile is stacked to the top with my niggaz Mostly for squeezin triggas I call em homies Pigs call em crooks So I write and put bucks on they books I give a f**k about a cop or a G-man Their breath smellin like semen They all talk sh*t Put em in the prone I catch em in the alley all alone Pop! Pop! Pop! To the dome Chorus: It's the G-style Gangsta style Verse 2: G Style, The gangsta talk I got a teflon .9 And it eats vest I take a motherf**ker out quick Ride Rolls Just for talkin sh*t Catch hoes like a mitt LA, Atlanta, New York Yo, my sh*t rocks Chi-town, Miami, Detroit I get much props Because I roll with the hardcore G Every street's the same street to me I don't bullsh*t I don't quit Writin a rhyme fit KKK pray each day That I get hit Motherf**kers try to flip on the Icepick Close the eyes and catch a f**kin clip Move and slip Not in the ghetto no more But I do hang Got a black game And it's sittin on them thangs Not the slamma I kick the game from the street Tighten up my knockas with a big lead 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 bleed Bullets fly My mind clicks to Homocide Ladies cry A lot of people die Some nights I can't right Stare at the blue lines Then the beat becomes me I think I'm a go blind Sit in the dark G Style, the gangsta talk And write a whole f**kin LP Never near soft Hard as a knockout bout It's no sellout I keep crime in my rhyme Cause it's my thing Packed with guns And lots of street slang And drugs A-B-C-D-E-F, and LAPD Words from a motherf**kin OG Ammo Dump pumps the sounds that you bump in your trunk So turn it up punk What'cha fraid of? Pull the pin What'cha made of? Set the grenade off Blastin sounds out ya jeep On every city street, nigga Straight gangsta beat Chorus Verse Four: Many like to dress the style, and act hardcore Many motherf**kers are and they crack jaws I like to lay in the cut In a nightclub Drink suds Don't smoke bud But I gets loved, mack, cool I scope the freak with the mad backs Hit her with the gangsta style Cool, relaxed, bam Put her in the Benz Bump Too $hort, let her know Right off the top, what's my sport You think long You think wrong You got it goin on, baby doll? But I won't sing you no love song You either love me Or you don't You're either rollin tonight Or you won't She likes the style Cause it don't bullsh*t around Tounge in my ear, real slow Pack a clip full of hype tracks And then it went down And then unload I gotta flip into a I'll mode Music for the hardcore beatdown No weak pop sh*t Strictly underground And if you don't like the style, as I get wreck Ease back nigga, catch a knife through the neck Chorus