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Here’s Some Homicide
Stress Eater
,
Ice‐T
Popularity · Low
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🇬🇧 English · Original
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Lyrics
Original
Translation
Bilingual
Out of the sky? What do you mean?
Tell me, who are you?
Tell you I'm
Nothin' to tussle with, what's to discuss?
You'd rather step in front of a bus than rumble with us
Limitless pain, I don't think you've suffered enough
A starkiller watching empire crumble to dust
I'm talkin' doctors, nurses, coffins, hearses
Who they call up when you fall into these godly verses?
Yo, rappers are running they tongues, saying they coming with guns
I got 101 reasons they dumber than dumb
I don't need music to motivate me, the game may be crazy
I can puncture lungs bumpin' Mumford & Sons
So I'm back to the lecture, I'ma strike like a MOAB
My vocab can toe tag your broke ass
When I'm in the pocket I'm tougher than Steve Brogen
East coast dance like you know when I'm flowin'
Down you wise up, you gotta be jokin'
We the reason that Professor X needs Logan, I have spoken
(And in the house tonight, we got a friend of mine)
I'm here, I'm here I'm here
(Koooool KEITH)
I really see how to be a poser
Cause I'm supposed to slam dunk, make 'em a part of my poster
One year deal, your label got the verses down erupt like a volcano
They want me on they payroll, your girl want me in her a-hole
Tracks so good I can do this from home, sit on the wall
Platinum and gold, lead rappers feel that ball experience
Czarface, I got security that guard gates
And in Barbados I'm hard to trace
The verses distorted like rappers stretchin' out of proportion
And funhouse mirrors, I give you the money to pour my serum
I hear a lot of cults drinkin'
Papers rippin' and tearin' up
The opposites frustrated and flarin' up
Rip they forehead off, now they care enough
STRESS EATER
(Iceberg, iceberg, iceberg)
(Preceded by massive volcanic activ-)
(Listen, do you hear what I hear? Yes)
Czarface hit me, said Keith's on the track
I been workin' with Treach I'm Black Cadillac
Mixin' hoes and pimpin' and shit like that
Already in the zone, turn on the microphone
You want drama, I got it I'm always on one
I'm like fuckin' a fat bitch without a condom (damn)
I'm like wavin' a steak at an alligator
I'm five goons when you walk on a elevator
I'm old food in the back of your refrigerator
Pump the shotty, call me the masturbator
I blow so much dough, call me a hurricane
I shit diamonds, I piss champagne
My dick's hard as gold, cold as cocaine
You bought a little boat, I bought a submarine
I can't take it around, all you niggas simpin'
Hard on a bitch, came out the room pimpin'
Put on a silk diaper, laid her on my back
Knocked my momma's nurse, and put her on the track
(Iceberg, biatch!)
(Go ahead and do my thing)
(Back it up a little)
(Not on my level, man)
(You gonna have to go back to jail, man, 'cause this is my record)
(Of course)
(No need to get alarming)
(What seems to be the trouble?)
(No no need to get alarming)
(As a matter of fact)
(That thing that only comes from the inside)
(Sensitivity to the whole texture)
(You figure that's part of the texture, you covered that)
(Are you aware of how special they are, at the time, in the moment?)
(Or is it just another day in the life?)
(I see you've gathered quite a following, my young friend)
(No need to get alarming)
(No need to get alarming)
(No need to get alarming)
(No need to get alarming)
(Have you ever felt, blocked, creatively?)
(That's an interesting quest-- umm, I'm not sure)