[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]