[Intro:]



Yeah!  Right about now motherfuckers is layin for a nigga like me Ice-T

to bust some freestyle shit... but I don't do that

I just cold lounge up here at the Ammo Dump

with my nigga Alladdin, SLJ, LP and my nigga Henry G

Yeah, we do the shit like this



[Verse One:]



The card after the ace is deuce

So cut the nigga loose on the 3

That's me

The motherfuckin T

I got ride on my surfboard

Rhyme hard

But only buy the shit 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

Motherfuckers get dropped with the quickness

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 niggaz

Mostly for squeezin triggas

I call em homies

Pigs call em crooks

So I write and put bucks on they books

I give a fuck about a cop or a G-man

They all talk shit

Their breath smellin like semen

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 motherfucker out quick

Just for talkin shit

Ride Rolls

Catch hoes like a mitt

LA, Atlanta, New York

Yo, my shit 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 bullshit

I don't quit

Writin a rhyme fit

KKK pray each day

That I get hit

Motherfuckers try to flip on the Icepick

Move and slip

Close the eyes and catch a fuckin clip

Not in the ghetto no more

But I do hang

Got a black game

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 fuckin 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 motherfuckin 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, nigga

Straight gangsta beat



[Chorus]



[Verse Four:]



Many like to dress the style, and act hardcore

Many motherfuckers 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 bullshit 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 shit

Strictly underground

And if you don't like the style, as I get wreck

Ease back nigga, catch a knife through the neck



[Chorus]