The 7th ) Lyrics - Ice T

(Ant Banks) 

This is Ant Banks, and it's hella motherfuckin' deadly sins 

But don't ever fuck with the seventh bitch 

(Intro: Ras Kass) 

Yeah, seventh, uh-huh, first things first man you're messin' with the worst 

One, come on, come on, one 

(Chorus: Marc Live) 

Yo, yo, yo motherfuckers can't fuck with this, realness 

Seventh sin deadly, raise the key to rock steady 

Run son the hour has come, touch ya 

Remember this, real niggas don't rhyme 

we walk up and buck ya 

Stuck ya in the head, rush ya 

Trife niggas knife you, seven venoms fight you 

Your life's through, fuckin' with the wrong click - kapow!! 

From the crackhouse, niggas quick to blow your back out 

(Marc Live) 

Enough talk, niggas talk too much, let's set it 

Time to splash bitch niggas, gun fights, paramedics 

Call my regiment up at midnight, tape on a flash light 

Youn claim you want beef, it's too tough, called your bluff 

Shot you at such close range, blew out your eardrum 

Caught you with my mack, blast your cage our your back 

Yo, the nigga stepped up and got bucked by my ninja's 

Casualty after casualty all up in ya 

Ya not a street vet yet bitch, just a beginner 

My niggas eat punk like your crew for dinner 

Rock ya in broad daylight to make the wrist-double 

Hit ya then lower my gun and watch ya chest bubble 

Step up, feel the Teflon, black talent 

Rip through your vest, hit your chest, lose your balance 

You never had no drama with the real, now ya want it? 

My skill got you haunted, my ski-mask got ??? 

(Marc Live) 

Aiyyo blackout, my whole click we blastout 

The wrong move, show improve you assed out 

Venom it, warn the niggas, treacherous 

Squeeze automatic, quick to bust fuck with us 

Yo the worst niggas, work the bitch to double figures 

In new sixes, hennessey with dark mixes 

The richest, fuck around, you won't fix it 

Toke, heavy metal, settle shit, rebel shit 

Fuck a cop, why not, we last niggas on your block 

Last standin', coked up, we fucked up 

Twenty g's, rope 'em up, you in the trunk - Lex Coupe 

I'll leave a nigga with cement boots 

Now we off lootin', hold me down, yo I'll start shootin' 

in ya double lefts and tell the rest an' 

Marc Li-ive, fuck the pad, bust his ass 

and slide my fuckin' heat in the stash 

(Chorus: Marc Live) 

Yo, yo, yo motherfuckers can't fuck with this, realness 

Seventh sin deadly, raise the key to rock steady 

Run son the hour has come, touch ya 

Remember this, real niggas don't rhyme 

we walk up and buck ya 

Stuck ya in the head, rush ya 

Trife niggas knife you, seven venoms fight you 

Your life's through, fuckin' with the wrong click - kapow!! 

From the crackhouse, niggas quick to blow your back out 

(Ras Kass) 

She musta kicked off like special teams 

I walk rare from a muchy bled nigga all lookin' like Grenedine 

Murder scene, three to the head, three to the sline 

We tied that motherfuckin' number like Kareem 

It seems that I used to wonder why niggas don't give a fuck 

within 2G - niggas is just buck 

From hip-hoppers to gangsta's, sportin' stompers at yompers 

The mirror has two faces in this room is not proper 

So we religiously pray for peace and pack one 

I walk softly, carry a big dick 

these family jewels is my most important riches 

but I still want my liquor, my sorry-ass friends and my bitch 

And nigga this me, I only see green like a Marine 

Support Calvin Klein jeans, fed a bitch from the Phillipines 

with a immoral nose ring (masterbatin' with a magazine!!) 

Yeah, I'm acid 9 and half the time undercover 

Fuck you, your lesbain lover and your mother with the same brother 

The blade runner, my games' tight 

I could talk the Virgin Mary outta panties the same night 

(Castrophe) 

And that's the seventh deadly sin as the terror begins 

Me and my friends came to rob ya for your props and your ends 

Tuck it in, my niggas want, whatever's costin' 

The rings plus the watch, plus thst chain from the slossin' 

Son, that's why I go in and shit stop 

Last night my nigga Ice-T had to pop a cop 

I write the chop-chop lyrics, tryin' not to scratch the detail 

I put 'em through the system, slang 'em out at full retail 

It's thirty g's for the title and the ki's 

Throw in the extra three and take the tyres and the D's 

Nigga please, this is lik-wit and I'm the Alki 

At three months from now you're gonna read all about me 

One cause I smoke 'em, two cause I'm wealthy 

Three because I rapped on my nigga Ice's LP 

It's Castrophe, lik-wit fam, lik-wit crew 

West Coast is in the house nigga, what you wanna do? 

(Chorus: Marc Live) 

Yo, yo, yo motherfuckers can't fuck with this, realness 

Seventh sin deadly, raise the key to rock steady 

Run son the hour has come, touch ya 

Remember this, real niggas don't rhyme 

we walk up and buck ya 

Stuck ya in the head, rush ya 

Trife niggas knife you, seven venoms fight you 

Your life's through, fuckin' with the wrong click - kapow!! 

From the crackhouse, niggas quick to blow your back out 

(Outro: Marc Live) 

Yeah, seventh deadly sin bitch 

Ice-T, Marc Li-ive, Ras Kass, Castrophe...