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[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]

[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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