Ice Cube`s in the mutha-f**kin` house
The ni**a you love to hate
Ice Cube`s in the mutha-f**kin` house
The ni**a you love to hate
Ice Cube`s in the mutha-f**kin` house

Yo, here comes the ni**a with the ruff, terror
The paranoid, gots to get the boy
Get your steel `cuz I feel like a headbanger
Yah, I got a gang of s**ts

Styles guns my Uzzie wieghts a mutha-f**kin` ton
Bucking down one, bucking down two
Bucking down your crew, mutha f**k you
Pigs were blue, I where black, nothing but black

`Cause god damn its a brand new payback
F**k Pat Sajak, never did nothing for a ni**a
On tha trigga, the zigga, the zag, the nickel, the bag
The ni**a, the sag, the forty five mag, got you runnin` like a f**

So, keep your mutha-f**kin` jokes
`Cuz, I`m that ni**a with a fresh pair of locs, no yokes but smokes
Crakers and them dirty mackers friends aren`t jackers
Get yah for your drawers, young ni**as out to kill for cars

Ice T in the mutha f**kin` house
Ice T in the mutha f**kin` house
Ice T in the mutha f**kin` house
Ice T in the mutha f**kin` house
Ice T in the mutha f**kin` house

Oh, to the mutha f**kin` G I break crazy
A lot of ni**as hate me but they can`t fade me
Stop me, clock me, cops wanna glock me
Mutha f**k, mutha f**k, pigs can`t stop me

Uhh, am I a G, I got proof
Banged in my youth, keep ni**as on the roof
With a scope, dough, Cube keep the rope
Tupac string a ni**a up, hit the mob dope

So what`s up Punk
You want what I got step to me wrong f**k around and get shot
Your mom`s crying f**k her, bust her
Bitch start screaming to me and I`ll dust her

Pops got the LP phat, track on hit
Laid by the mutha f**kin` Bobcat
Ninety three suckas want me to go out
Throw the hoe out, bitch mutha f**ker I`m rich

Tupac`s in the mutha f**kin` house
Tupac`s in the mutha f**kin` house
Tupac`s in the mutha f**kin` house
Tupac`s in the mutha f**kin` house

Got any last wordz

Now they`re after me, why? `Cuz a ni**as black
Sit back, ain`t afraid to pull a triggar back
Let `em come step to a real mutha-f**ker
Mama ain`t raised no suckers

Dan Quayle, don`t you know you need to get your ass kicked
Where was you when there was ni**as in the caskets?
Mutha-f**ker rednecks all the same
Feel a real ni**a if he ain`t balled and chained

That`s why we burn s**t and wreck
`Cuz the punk police ain`t learned s**t yet
You mutha-f**kas gonna pay the price
Can`t make a Black life, don`t take a Black life

It`s on, the next real ni**a fall dead
Dred, Jheri Curl, process, or bald head
Be prepared for the smoke to bust
What ni**as need to do is start loc`in up

United we stand, divided we fall
They can shoot one ni**a but they can`t take us all
Let`s get along with the Mexicans
And we can all have peace on the sets again

Imagine that if it took place
Keeping the smile off their white fakes
I ain`t racist but let`s trade places
Trace the hate `n face it

One ni**a teach two ni**as, three teach four ni**as
And them ni**as teach more ni**as
And when we blast that`ll be the biggest blast you`ve heard
And them is my last wordz