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RU: 0-9 А Б В Г Д Е Ж З И К Л М Н О П Р С Т У Ф Х Ц Ч Ш Щ Э Ю Я
EN: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Текст (слова) песни: Ice-T - G Style

Intro:

Yeah! Right about now motherfuckers is layin for a nigga like me Ice-T
to bust some freestyle shit... 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 shit like this

Verse One:

The card after the ace is deuce
So cut the nigga loose on the 3
That`s me
The motherfuckin T
I got ride on my surfboard
Rhyme hard
But only buy the shit that I can`t afford
That`s everything
That`s why I truck big fat rings
Cause in the motherland gold is for kings
I got backup
To jack up
Punks who try to act up
Do a world tour
Watch the big bank stack up
Motherfuckers get dropped with the quickness
I got an ill 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 fuck about a cop or a G-man
They all talk shit
Their breath smellin like semen
I catch em in the alley all alone
Put em in the prone
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 motherfucker out quick
Just for talkin shit
Ride Rolls
Catch hoes like a mitt
LA, Atlanta, New York
Yo, my shit 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 bullshit
I don`t quit
Writin a rhyme fit
KKK pray each day
That I get hit
Motherfuckers try to flip on the Icepick
Move and slip
Close the eyes and catch a fuckin clip
Not in the ghetto no more
But I do hang
Got a black game
And it`s sittin on them thangs
I kick the game from the street
Not the slamma
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
My mind clicks to Homocide
Bullets fly
Ladies cry
A lot of people die
Some nights I can`t right
Stare at the blue lines
I think I`m a go blind
Then the beat becomes me
Sit in the dark
And write a whole fuckin LP
G Style, the gangsta talk
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 drugs
And lots of street slang
A-B-C-D-E-F, and LAPD
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?
Pull the pin
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 motherfuckers are and they crack jaws
I like to lay in the cut
In a nightclub
Don`t smoke bud
Drink suds
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 bullshit around
Tounge in my ear, real slow
And then it went down
I gotta flip into a ill mode
Pack a clip full of hype tracks
And then unload
Music for the hardcore beatdown
No weak pop shit
Strictly underground
And if you don`t like the style, as I get wreck
Ease back nigga, catch a knife through the neck

Chorus

 

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