Ice-t intro: Well alright. spice 1 in the hiddouse (and short dawgs in the house bitch). With the l.a. players (soldiers to the game you know? ) yeah. (peep game fool). Ant banks at the crackhouse Ha ha ha better recognize game when it's in your face bitch).
Ice-t: It's obvious mad cash got me gassed Shark tanks and views millionaire cruise buying cars in twos Never lose my motto since birth Double up knots and crack spots Snitches lead out by silence gun shots Map the area I wanted to cut the fuckin' cops a deal If they don't kneel, they get peeled Bitches recognize I never have no drama with death Bustas always try I leavin' 'em gagging spittin' up flem Take a pen make a mil and if this shit don't sell I still got the street powder back to flippin' flower South central nigga what? The representer, damn your girl seen me comin' and ran Young enough to be my daughter My posse use to flip her like a quarter To state to my man for man slaughter Caught her in the stairway took her out the fairway Trunked the punk bitch (that's fair play)
Hook: You've got the gangstas that I have tangled baby Bitch recognize game when it's in your face Well alright ch'all ha ha ha
Too short: You think the town rid of short? You must be crazy, that silly shit you talkin' just don't faze me I could make a phone call and just like that A bunch of niggas from oakland all on your back I've never been a shot caller just a nigga in a crew They call me too short but I'm still bigger than you bitch I been around you can take a turn but don't get burned I've seen the tables turn Marks turn into killers rich niggas go broke Use to be a wanna but now I'm old school short In the game never had the stacks since age 14 I been spittin' these raps soakin' up the game up And even when I came up I fucked with same folks Still did the same stuff Bitch short dawgs in the house I know you want my dick cause it's all in your mouth
Spice 1: Picture the game as a quarter toss it up in the air (uh ha) Heads or tails win or lose broke niggas are players (x2) Say what up to the s.p. crooked i.c.e. Ra rolling with the strap on the side of me Potna don't get it twisted up I got hollow tips extended clips Major chips lookin' at eclipse jacussi dips Niggas step back I don't know you Don't get to close to me Some niggas ain't really the motherfucker they suppose to be Cloud killers don't aim until you shoot in the air Better put it down and brake some hoes off like a true player Phoney as three dollar bills niggas ain't recognizin' Fell in the relapse besides I'm a trauma a nigga Look in the eyes and when you see me I be hardcore What the fuck a real nigga gotta lie to kick it for? I'm tired of these bubblegum ass niggas Throwin' monkey wrenches into the game And all the players and pimps feel my pain Hustlers maintainin' riches and keepin' presidentals Not artfical with fishin' niggas know I'm packin' missles Get me two bentleys some houses johnson jet skis Ballin' till I die nigga don't fuck with s.p.i.