[Intro: Ice-T] Yo, this shit got me bugging man I'm looking at all these Hardcore motherfuckers; one year they got guns and next year they're coming out with motherfucking damn stealths Then I listened to some of these motherfucker's records; They're acting like they done kill 300 motherfucking niggaz They're still on the streets, and I'm supposed to believe that bullshit What the fuck is up?!
[Verse One: Ice-T] Niggaz got me bugging, in every rap they strap Rolling Rag Top four, hitting switches and all that You're lying, you ain't no Rap Star, you ain't got a car You're whack, you're broke, a motherfucking joke Stay the fuck out my face, kids, you don't know You know my name, cause I beat down your homies So what's up? - you want some more payback shit, back trap You're only winning the fantasies inside your raps Don't move motherfucker, best not twitch I'll bust your homo spot, and then I'll fuck your bitch Hardcore; no R&B, Blues, no hooks singing Begin to bleeding, niggaz be breeding Hard shit, they rolled in and they believed that it's real Hit the streets and get beat by shorties flexing with steel I'm I-The Capital-C-E, you grew up wanna be me Nigga, you can't see me, no fake I'm iller than Jason up in Crystal Lake FEDs take, every fucking move that my crew makes Jail cells, my niggaz got mad years with Ls Living hells, it happens often, tears and coughings
[Chorus: Ice-T] Fuck that shit! - yo, I'm about to go off The whole fucking Rap scenery is either fake or soft So if you see me, nigga, don't shake my hand Cause if you ain't Hardcore, then you ain't my man Fuck that shit! - yo, I'm about to go off The whole fucking Rap scenery is either fake or soft So if you see me, bitch, don't shake my hand Cause if you ain't Hardcore, then you ain't my man
[Verse Two: Ice-T] You say you represent, but represent what though? You say you're Hardcore, your shit sounds like disco Damn steps, you're making me sick, can't watch the Box If it ain't portiagraphy, it's bitches with glocks Niggaz in Kansas lifted front and back Niggaz singing sounding like war burnt of flak Goddamn, give me the Boom-Baam beats and brace your killed-up face Yo, break the takes, come lounge with the fool on the hell Never faked a move in life, and never fucking with six albums Living like concrete, every year I get harder, the riot starter No need to overkill my raps with crap, I just kick facts You hear the contact of the fat tracks The choruses harder as they come You feel the fat Airo-wave, drums boom, pock doom
[Chorus: Ice-T]
[Monologue: Ice-T] Yeah, I make records for my motherfucking niggaz, not for your motherfucking mother I ain't with that weak whack ass R&B BULLSHIT Motherfuckers play on the radio everyday, FUCK that shit!!
[Verse Three: Ice-T] Me and my crew be watching Evil Dead too Sipping Kool-Aid and brew, lacing the Disconnection Wu Who can get enough of the ill stuff? I got a motherfucking addiction to this shit Like Court Fiction and beats like the shit I'm on It's a bomb, a violence addict, like Nas I'm Illmatic Lust for static, got my self, you better pad it Mad erotic, fuck with this nigga you had it Cause I'm all in, so what you're selling for Radio, whore? You blow the DJ all day for Air-play I got no love for niggaz who gave up the Hardcore for riches Punk bitches!
[Chorus: Ice-T]
[Outro: Ice-T] Yeah, you know who you are, you know who you are You know who you are, Suck a dick!
