[Intro] [Sampled Operatic Vocalise & Music Box] [Verse 1] Yo, I like my country like I like my whiskey, neat You know, a place without thugs who beat Every single person whose skin isn't white enough Taking steroids, pumping iron, trying to act tough [Pre-Chorus] You keep fucking around and you're fitting to find out That you're not going to be safe going out and about You're rounding up our neighbors and pointing guns Acting like a pack of jackbooted Nazi Huns [Chorus] No ICE, no ICE, I want my drinks neat I have no need for them on our street Looking for poor immigrants to beat Then go out for a nice fat steak to eat [Refrain] Fuck them boys, they can go straight to hell Where no matter how hard they ring the bell There will be no one for them to tell What sins for which their souls they did sell [Verse 2] So your bank accounts are swelling (swelling) The toys you're buying are telling (telling) You have no soul behind those smiling eyes Your patriotism and faith just huge lies [Pre-Chorus] So you hit the bar every night (every night) Just so you can wind down from the fight (from the fight) Growing more and more dependent on the juice (on the juice) Because your soul poured out like a sluice [Chorus] [Chorus] No ICE, no ICE, I want my drinks neat I have no need for them on our street Looking for poor immigrants to beat Then go out for a nice fat steak to eat [Refrain] Fuck them boys, they can go straight to hell Where no matter how hard they ring the bell There will be no one for them to tell What sins for which their souls they did sell [Bridge - Spoken Word] So there'll be a night, when you're sitting at your stool, going on and on acting the loudmouth fool, and in walks a woman smelling of exotic spice and sits next to you and orders her whiskey neat- with no ice [DJ Scratch Interlude] [Turntable Scratches & Vocal Chops: "Neat, no ICE", "No ICE"] [Music Box Interlude] [Outro] [Turntable Scratches & Vocal Cuts:] [Chorus] No ICE, no ICE, I want my drinks neat I have no need for them on our street Looking for poor immigrants to beat Then go out for a nice fat steak to eat [Refrain] Fuck them boys, they can go straight to hell Where no matter how hard they ring the bell There will be no one for them to tell What sins for which their souls they did sell
