Pulse Of The Rhyme - Ice T

Just checkin' my microphone once 
As I check your audio 
Increase the bass response 
Hope n the speakers blow 
I got no time to sit and flip 
And pop bullshit 
Turn up your stereo hops 
Insert the rhyme clip 
Roll your windows up 
Make sure it7s air tight 
E.Q. the track exact 
So shit sounds right 
I rhyme of death 
And darkness and danger 
Your crib or car 
Becomes a torture chamber 
I write my rhymes with violence 
What you expect? 
Sounds of pain 
The snap of a broken neck 
All alone in darkness I sit each night 
Write my rhymes 
With blood upon a butcher knife 
You say the Ice is ill, and ill I am 
They try to ban my shit 
And I don't give a damn 
Roll up, your eye will get swoll up 
Suckers who flexed 
Yo, their deaths got tolled up 
Cause I'm not the nigga to toy with 
Boy with the big mouth 
Ya got time to riff? 
There's time to take you out 
Put a couple caps in your ass 
Cut your head off 

Send it to your mom with flowers 
Cause I'm so soft 
Lay on your wack crew 
Smoke the whole bunch 
Bury 'em in my bck yard 
And then I'll eat lunch 
Cause I don't give a fuck about you 
Or him or her 
Whenever I'm in the house 
A death just might occur 
Is this real or fiction 
You'll never know 

CHORUS 
While you're locked to the 
Pulse of the rhyme flow! 

Once I lock you up, you can't get loose 
You put your head inside 
And I placed the noose 
The mic drips juice slow 
From its steel mesh 
My words feel like hooks 
Underneath your flesh 
Makin' you twist and turn 
Scorch and burn, when will you learn? 
The '90s are my turn 
To pitch a vocal fit, like the ultimate 
Gangster rhyme, yo, I invented the shit! 
Watch me dod it, as I do it 
And I do it right 
Grab the gauge 
Duct tape on the flashlight 
Doin' the black ski mask