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Return Of The Real - Ice-T
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Return Of The Real Ice-T

Return Of The Real - Ice-T
Yo, what's up with all these niggas
On these muthafuckin records talkin all this bullshit
(Man, I don't know about these niggas out here
Them other sucker-ass niggas, them old fake-ass bitches)
I ain't tryin to hear that shit, man
These bitches ain't players, man
(Yeah man
You know these niggas out here been fakin for years, man
I'm glad my nigga Ice comin with that HP shit
That high-powered shit..)

[ VERSE 1 ]
Peace to my street niggas 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 nigga trippin
Wake up my posse, interrup the Rémy-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 bitches like niggas, pimp niggas 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 niggas who trip get sung hymns
We crash clubs and security shits
Cause they know they got size but they know we keep clips
Crazy muthafuckas 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, cock the Glock
And let these niggas 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 fucked up
Now you're bleedin through your fingers while you're holdin your gut
For real
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