Last Wordz Lyrics

Ice Cube's in the mutha-f**kin' house
The nigga you love to hate
Ice Cube's in the mutha-f**kin' house
The nigga you love to hate
Ice Cube's in the mutha-f**kin' house

Yo, here comes the nigga with the ruff, terror
The paranoid, gots to get the boy
Get your steel 'cuz I feel like a headbanger
Yah, I got a gang of shits

Styles guns my Uzzie wieghts a mutha-f**kin' ton
Bucking down one, bucking down two
Bucking down your crew, mutha f**k you
Pigs were blue, I where black, nothing but black

'Cause god damn its a brand new payback
f**k Pat Sajak, never did nothing for a nigga
On tha trigga, the zigga, the zag, the nickel, the bag
The nigga, the sag, the forty five mag, got you runnin' like a fag

So, keep your mutha-f**kin' jokes
'Cuz, I'm that nigga with a fresh pair of locs, no yokes but smokes
Crakers and them dirty mackers friends aren't jackers
Get yah for your drawers, young niggas out to kill for cars

Ice T in the mutha f**kin' house
Ice T in the mutha f**kin' house
Ice T in the mutha f**kin' house
Ice T in the mutha f**kin' house
Ice T in the mutha f**kin' house

Oh, to the mutha f**kin' G I break crazy
A lot of niggas hate me but they can't fade me
Stop me, clock me, cops wanna glock me
Mutha f**k, mutha f**k, pigs can't stop me

Uhh, am I a G, I got proof
Banged in my youth, keep niggas on the roof
With a scope, dough, Cube keep the rope
Tupac string a nigga up, hit the mob dope

So what's up Punk
You want what I got step to me wrong f**k around and get shot
Your mom's crying f**k her, bust her
Bitch start screaming to me and I'll dust her

Pops got the LP phat, track on hit
Laid by the mutha f**kin' Bobcat
Ninety three s*ckas want me to go out
Throw the hoe out, bitch mutha f**ker I'm rich

Tupac's in the mutha f**kin' house
Tupac's in the mutha f**kin' house
Tupac's in the mutha f**kin' house
Tupac's in the mutha f**kin' house

Got any last wordz

Now they're after me, why? 'Cuz a niggas black
Sit back, ain't afraid to pull a triggar back
Let 'em come step to a real mutha-f**ker
Mama ain't raised no s*ckers

Dan Quayle, don't you know you need to get your a*s kicked
Where was you when there was niggas in the caskets?
Mutha-f**ker rednecks all the same
Feel a real nigga if he ain't balled and chained

That's why we burn shit and wreck
'Cuz the punk police ain't learned shit yet
You mutha-f**kas gonna pay the price
Can't make a Black life, don't take a Black life

It's on, the next real nigga fall dead
Dred, Jheri Curl, process, or bald head
Be prepared for the smoke to bust
What niggas need to do is start loc'in up

United we stand, divided we fall
They can shoot one nigga but they can't take us all
Let's get along with the Mexicans
And we can all have peace on the sets again

Imagine that if it took place
Keeping the smile off their white fakes
I ain't racist but let's trade places
Trace the hate 'n face it

One nigga teach two niggas, three teach four niggas
And them niggas teach more niggas
And when we blast that'll be the biggest blast you've heard
And them is my last wordz