Songwriter(s) . . . Floyd Brown . Mario Johnson . Robert Van Winkle . Brian May . David Bowie . Freddie Mercury . John Deacon . Roger Taylor Producer(s) . . . Vanilla Ice, Queen, David Bowie
[Intro] Yo VIP, let's kick it
[Hook] Ice, ice, baby Ice, ice, baby
[Verse 1] Alright stop, collaborate and listen Ice is back with my brand new invention Something grabs a hold of me tightly Flow like a harpoon daily and nightly "Will it ever stop?" Yo, I don't know Turn off the lights and I'll glow To the extreme, I rock a mic like a vandal Light up a stage and wax a chump like a candle
Dance, go rush to the speaker that booms I'm killing your brain like a poisonous mushroom Deadly, when I play a dope melody Anything less than the best is a felony Love it or leave it, you better gangway You better hit bull's eye, the kid don't play If there was a problem, yo, I'll solve it Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it
[Verse 2] Now that the party is jumping With the bass kicked in, and the Vegas are pumping Quick to the point, to the point, no faking Cooking MCs like a pound of bacon Burning them, if you ain't quick and nimble I go crazy when I hear a cymbal And a hi-hat with a souped up tempo I'm on a roll, it's time to go solo
Rollin' in my 5.0 With my rag-top down so my hair can blow The girlies on standby, waving just to say "Hi" "Did you stop?" No, I just drove by Kept on, pursuing to the next stop I busted a left, and I'm heading to the next block The block was dead, yo So I continued to A1A Beachfront Avenue
Girls were hot wearing less than bikinis Rockman lovers driving Lamborghinis Jealous, 'cause I'm out getting mine Shay with a gauge, and Vanilla with a nine Ready for the chumps on the wall The chumps acting ill because they're full of eight ball Gunshots rang out like a bell I grabbed my nine, all I heard were shells
Falling on the concrete real fast Jumped in my car, slammed on the gas Bumper to bumper, the avenue's packed I'm trying to get away before the jackers jack Police on the scene, you know what I mean They passed me up, confronted all the dope fiends If there was a problem, yo, I'll solve it Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it
[Verse 3] Take heed 'cause I'm a lyrical poet Miami's on the scene, just in case you didn't know it My town, that created all the bass sound Enough to shake and kick holes in the ground 'Cause my style's like a chemical spill Feasible rhymes that you can vision and feel Conducted and formed, this is a hell of a concept We make it hype, and you want to step
With this, Shay plays on the fade Slice like a ninja, cut like a razor blade So fast, other DJs say "Damn!" If my rhyme was a drug, I'd sell it by the gram Keep my composure, when it's time to get loose Magnetized by the mic while I kick my juice If there was a problem, yo, I'll solve it Check out the hook while D-Shay revolves it
คนร้อง Hip hop เขาจำเนื้อกันได้ไงไม่รุ มันไม่ ค่อยเหมาะกับคนความจำสั้นเท่าไหร่ อ้อ ต้องเต้น ด้วยสิเนาะ (แล้วจะมีลงภาคเสริม ด้วยการอัดลง we sing มั้ย 55)
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