Pulse of the Rhyme Ice-T

[Verse 1]
Just checkin' my microphone once as I test your audio
Increase the bass response, hopin' the speakers blow
I got no time to sit and flip, and pop bullshit
Turn up your stereo hops, insert the rhyme clip
Close your windows up, make sure it's airtight
E.Q. the track exact, so shit sounds right
I rhyme of death and darkness and danger
Your crib or car becomes a torture chamber
I lace my rhymes with violence, what you expect
Sounds of pain, the snap of a broken neck
All alone in darkness I sit each night
Write my rhymes with blood upon a butcher knife
You say the Ice is ill, and ill I am
They try to ban my shit and I don't give a damn
Roll up, your eye'll get swole up
Suckers who flexed, yo their deaths got tolled up, hold up
Plus I'm not the nigga to toy with, boy with the big mouth
Ya got time to riff, there's time to take you out
Put a couple caps in your ass, cut your head off
Send it to your moms with flowers 'cause I'm so soft
Lay on your wack crew, smoke the whole bunch
Bury 'em in my backyard and then I'll eat lunch
'Cause I don't give a fuck about you or him or her
Whenever I'm in the house a death just might occur
Is this real or fiction, you'll never know
While you're locked to the pulse of the rhyme flow