Yeah! Right about now mother$#&@ers is layin for a ^!$$% like me Ice-T
to bust some freestyle %#@!... but I don't do that
I just cold lounge up here at the Ammo Dump

with my ^!$$% Alladdin, SLJ, LP and my ^!$$% Henry G
Yeah, we do the %#@! like this


[Verse One:]

The card after the ace is deuce

So cut the ^!$$% loose on the 3
That's me
The mother$#&@in T

I got ride on my surfboard
Rhyme hard
But only buy the %#@! 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
Mother$#&@ers get dropped with the quickness ( digg this )

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 ^!$$%z

Mostly for squeezin triggas
I call em homies
Pigs call em crooks

So I write and put bucks on they books
I give a $#&@ about a cop or a G-man
They all talk %#@!

Their breath smellin like !@&(
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 mother$#&@er out quick
Just for talkin %#@!
Ride Rolls

Catch hoes like a mitt
LA, Atlanta, New York
Yo, my %#@! 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 bull%#@!
I don't quit

Writin a rhyme fit
KKK pray each day
That I get hit

Mother$#&@ers try to flip on the Icepick
Move and slip
Close the eyes and catch a $#&@in clip

Not in the ghetto no more
But I do hang
Got a black 4

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 $#&@in 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 mother$#&@in 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, ^!$$%
Straight gangsta beat


[Chorus]

[Verse Four:]

Many like to dress the style, and act hardcore
Many mother$#&@ers 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 bull%#@! 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 %#@!
Strictly underground
And if you don't like the style, as I get wreck
Ease back ^!$$%, catch a knife through the neck
It's The G-Style !
GANGSTA STYLE !!