my rhymes with blood upon a butcher knife You say, "The Ice is ill", an' ill I am They try to ban my shit and I don't give a damn Roll up, your eye will
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
Tradução: Ice-T. Pulso de la rima.
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
don't want to fuck with us You don't Huh Yo, You don't want to fuck with us You don't Yo, You don't want to fuck with us You don't
off, don't make me shoot y'all You don't want to fuck with us, you don't Method Man We just ice Men of mice, ain't nothing nice Redman Fuck your life
make bread with the opposite toaster I'm Py-reckless, I'm kitchen, equip sickenin And my neckless is glistenin, it's expensive So don't mention your ice whenever you mention my rhymes
I hold onto the vision hip hop at it's best when it lacked television and everybody wasn't an emcee you know where the flows be and if you check the rhyme
marry his seeds That's how we keep Wu-Tang money all up in the family The treasure is the glaciers of ice The treasure is the glaciers of ice The treasure is the glaciers of ice
woofer As the rhyme buster, mic clutcher, from richmond Show the real definition of the word represent (southside!) the place where I dwell so Recog-nas nas nas, that _it ain't
all up in your face And when it comes to beats, well, I'm the rhythm ace Now if you check my pulse, it beats skull snaps I keep all my rhymes in my
and bringing heat, uh-huh Block shock, thunderous beats, uh-huh Blazing on your local ghetto street corner The chief, uh-huh Eyes in my mind, pulse signs in my rhymes
You don't, want to fuck with us, you don't Huh.. Yo, you don't want to fuck with us, you don't Yo, you don't want to fuck with us, you don't
drum and bringing heat, uh-huh Block shock, thunderous beats, uh-huh Blazing on your local ghetto street corner (the Chief, uh-huh) Eyes in my mind, pulse signs in my rhymes
vintage wine rhymes I invented Chumped by the drunken punches that punches the heart Vital sparks from the arteries start [Verse Three: Ghostface Killer] The treasure is the glaciers of ice
