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ICE-T lyrics : "Return of the Real"

Yo, what's up with all these ^!$$%s
On these mutha$#&@in records talkin all this bull%#@!
(Man, I don't know about these ^!$$%s out here

Them other sucker-ass ^!$$%s, them old fake-ass (*##$es)
I ain't tryin to hear that %#@!, man
These (*##$es ain't players, man

(Yeah man
You know these ^!$$%s out here been fakin for years, man
I'm glad my ^!$$% Ice comin with that HP %#@!

That high-powered %#@!..)

[ VERSE 1 ]

Peace to my street ^!$$%s movin that weight
Much love to my comrads who's out in upstate
Mad connections from the bottom to the top of the game

Street fame, I got much that's in touch with my name
Got a overload of guns to unload on a lame ^!$$% trippin
Wake up my posse, interrup the Rùmy-sippin

Four in your back and keep bailin
Listen to the HK wailin and your vital signs failin
Everyone that ever met me knows

I work (*##$es like ^!$$%s, pimp ^!$$%s like hoes
Command a mack that's immaculate, your girl's naked
You think she ain't been hit, kid yo, you best to check it

For ten years I been connected to the top of this
Hold your breath, kid, I'm never droppin this
Too busy rollin off them fat chrome rims

And ^!$$%s who trip get sung hymns
We crash clubs and security %#@!s
Cause they know they got size but they know we keep clips

Crazy mutha$#&@as lickin shots in doors
Leavin suckers' bodies bleedin over nightclub floors
You don't want none, son, stay gone

Break north when I come and you might live long
Yeah, my face kickin treble, you're just a pebble
You're gettin rocked, yo E, @@#! the glock

And let these ^!$$%s know, yo, that the west don't play none
Fire shoots out of my strap like a ray-gun
You broke ill and you cold $#&@ed up

Now you're bleedin through your fingers while you're holdin your gut
For real


[ CHORUS ]
So get your money how you want to, friend
But when it's time to count the chips only the real will win

(Return of the real) the game of life is only fake and true
But it's all about the dollars when the day is through


[ Hot Dollar ]
(Cause the pimps don't get no bigger
Than these here ^!$$%s)


It's the return of the real


(These mutha$#&@as best to get to recognize
Before I gets to chastizin
Cause see, the %#@! all ties in

It's just some of that pimp, player, hustler %#@!
Ice-T been around for a while now
^!$$% was gangbangin when gangbangin wasn't even cool, ^!$$%

What you know about that %#@!?)

[ VERSE 2 ]

I go deep into the street life's anatomy
A ^!$$% take me out - yo, what a upset that'd be
And if I fall I fall on cushions, ???

Hittin ^!$$%s up with the Tec and watch the blood gushin
I see your videos, a 100 ^!$$%s in it you don't know
Framed in the lens, bought friends

Who really got your back, ^!$$%, check it out
You really possess like zero street clout (think about)
The only place you're safe is in the studio

Yellin in the mic, you'se a (*##$, that's right
I take a ^!$$% like you and make him prostitute cute
So what you got a gun, punk, you're scared to shoot

You front hardcore, but I don't feel ya
Kids from my hood'll take your punk $$# and peel ya
Let me check my Rolex quick because time's money
Squintin from the Pavet face because it's kinda sunny
Skinnin the top back, flossin the rag and the thing

Feelin the sun, backin off of my pinky ring
Hittin the 'Shaw with my ^!$$%s and clown
Lift the $$#, hit the switch, raise the front off the ground
But most of the time you can't see a ^!$$%
Deep in the archives parlayin new ways to get my bank bigger


[ CHORUS ]

[ Hot Dollar ]
(As I slides up out the do'

Gots to give a special props shout out to that ^!$$% the O.G.
Got muth$#&@in Red in the house
[Name] and the mutha$#&@in ringleader of funk, DJ Ace
Hot Dollar's up in this mutha$#&@a
If you didn't know

Count your mutha$#&@in blessings and handcuff your hoe
You know what I'm sayin?
It's all good for my hood
Comp-town in the mutha$#&@in house
^!$$% don't know well I tell ya like this
West Hollywood Hills

That's the deal, fool
You know I know the rules..)

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