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| 1. |
| 2:12 | 
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Syndicate fool
L.A. Home of the Bodybag Ice-T A young playa bred in South Central Colors, syndicate fool A young playa bred in South Central Ice-T L.A. Home of the Bodybag [Incomprehensible] yourself Syndicate fool Ice-T A young playa bred in South Central Pop rollers Syndicate fool Ice-T L.A. Home of the Bodybag My lethal weapon's my mind Ice-T Syndicate fool I'm your pusher Ice-T A young playa bred in South Central Squeeze the trigger fool Ice-T Pimpin' ain't easy Drama, Ice-T Syndicate fool Peel the caps back Ice-T A young playa bred in South Central Power Syndicate fool L.A. Home of the Bodybag Iceberg, Ice-T Syndicate fool Let's get butt naked and fuck Ice-T A young playa bred in South Central Sex Ice-T L.A. Home of the Bodybag Syndicate fool O.G. |
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| 2. |
| 0:45 |
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Upon intial contact with Ice-T's music, I had envisioned him to be an ill-mannered and psychologically unstable man with an extremely uneducated and barbaric
frame of mind, whose raps displayed nothing but ridiculous jargon, shocking sexual audacity and repulsive images of the ghetto. However, after further analysis of his music I can deduce that he is the epitome of antidisestablishmentarianism, who embodies the entire spectrum of the urban experience and struggle. But to make things more plain and simple to the layman, I find Ice-T to be the dopest, flyist, O.G. pimp hustler gangster player hardcore motherfucker living today. To be honest, I am totally and irrevocably on his dick. |
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| 3. |
| 1:20 |
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Once again I'm back in the place to be
The I, the C, the E, the T I'll never get a Grammy, so fuck the G All I need is crowd, and my M-I-C Got a gangster ass DJ named Evil E My record label's called Warner B William Morris is my agency I'll never go broke, I got property Got a dope pitbull named Felony Got four gold albums So what you tell'n me? Power was two, Iceberg was three This one here shipped five hundred G Now when I roll, I roll stupid deep Benz's, Bemers, and boomin' Jeeps I'm always strapped Cause my money I keep You move on the Ice And you're goin' to sleep But when you see me Walkin' down the street You say, "What's up Ice?" And I say, "Peace!" You give me a dap, I give you one back Cause I ain't souped So forget about that We might take pictures Sign n utograph Kick a little flavor Have some fun and laugh But step to me wrong You might get shot And wind up lookin' out a ziplock!!! |
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| 4. |
| 4:24 |
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Brainstorm microphone napalm
This is it, words from a timebomb Attack speed, fast as an F15 Raise the heat, light thhe gasoline Overload, it might cause a blackout Dead end There's no chnce to back out Hit the tripwire Duck from the gunfire Broken glass, screech'n car tires, bodies hit the deck As I commence to wreck Eject another clip and drip sweat Face of danger, increasin' nger Point blank I smoke another stranger Grip the mic tight I see the brake lights Hit the back door I lay down cross the floor E's on the wheels He makes the rubber squel Blood's on my gear From caps I've peeled About a block away I sit up Look back It wasn't nothin' but a Microphone contract! Dressed in black I stalk my prey Parabellum in a leather attache Low tones I speak, I speak to few Just give me the money and who the fuck to do Four blocks away my aim's clean Night scope on a silence carbine Place my crosshairs on my vic's eye Squeeze the trigger Watch the brains fly Violent? Yeah you could call me that Insane? You're on the right track But turn the sounds up So I can stay amped Do another crew and breaak camp The only way I sleep is in a cold sweat You think I'm crazy? You ain't see shit yet Cause I love to kill and kill for fun The microphone goes off Like a handgun It's goin' down now Grab your girl hops No excuses when the bodies begin to drop Look in my face fool It look like I'm play'n Don't become another Victim of mic slayin' What's up? You want your feet in some concrete? I got some brothers That'll do you for gold teeth But most the time I move, I move alone Take a bat Break your motherfuckin' dome Shoot you dead in the face With a sawed off One hundred ten degrees Ice don't get soft Cause I'm hard as they come I come correct You can't handle the vandal hit eject If not you better get Out my face sucka Or else you better be A good bullet ducker Cause I'm a rip shop Tell that ass drop Five o Ice, yo fuck a damn cop! Cause I move hard and cold With a gangster stroll Five thousand dollar suits And fly gold Rolex, you can't fit no more Diamonds on it Pinky ring, worth a house If I decide to pwn it What's up now punk? Yo start to choke up? You try to move on the Ice You'll get broke up! Midnight, time for a homicide Showtime, somebody's gonna die E hits the switch And thouands of volts connect With the weapon that's in my fist I see a sucka in the third row Try'n to riff A paragraph and a half he's stiff I start bustin' off barrages ear high Mothers grab for their children Tears fly I'm like a psycho In the mircrophone zone Speakers blown, mind gone I can't be touched Once my lyrics begin to fly Simple stage radiation Could make ya die Ya got a prob nigga you think your rep's bigger? Hold your heard right there While I squeeze the trigger Cause I'm a crazy motherfucker That's no joke My favorite smell is The aroma of gunsmoke I'm bustin' off another Lyrical nightmare Parents hate the Ice! You think that I care? Well I don't give a fuck Cause I rhyme tough Drop science, still bust the ill stuff So now it's time for crime And the rhyme is mine Track the movement Hide from the punchline I rhyme with quickness Microphone fitness The assassinator Stay off the shit list |
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| 5. |
| 4:12 |
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Yo Yo, 1-2 in the place to be, M.C. Ice-T, ya know wha I'm sayin
Cold loungin' here in the new O.G. LP, you know, Original Gangsters in the House This is goin' out to all my homeboys on the streets and all the brothers locked-down It's been a long while Since I hit ya with freestyle High tech selection From the vaults of the Ice files Kick back, relax, And watch as I melt wax Don't never let a brother like me Write a dope track Cause once I hit it with the vocal tone It's mine, have motherfuckers Rush'n to rewind Cause I'll flow slow And still twist your tongues up Rock the house from night Till the sun's up Cause it really ain't How much you say it's what you sy I got no fuckin' time on the mic To play I write rhymes With addition and algebra Mental geometry Don't even come at me Talk'n that weak and Popin' that bullshit Get out my face A fool could get his head split A lot of doubters Said it couldn't be done by me them same suckers Are now lookin' from under me Wonder'n what I did I didn't play myself kid I respected my fans And made the high bid Sometimes I write my rhymes At night and fall asleep Wake up with new techniques Grab the pen And place it on some loose leaf Nothin' soft, always the tough meat The white paper and Blue lines excite my mind Not allow'n me to stop the rhyme Until the whole motherfuckin' Book's complete Then I write on the Back of the sheets I made promise To my brothers in street crime We'd get paid with the use Of a sweet rhyme We put our minds together Made the tracks clever Now we're checkin' More bank than ever Mind over matter (So ya got to have Mind Power, like the fellah's say...) Mind over matter (Mind Power) I can drop rhymes in twos, And threes and fours And still have much shit Left for encores Cause when my mind locks In on a dope idea Motherfuckin' ducks Should stand clear Cause I'm a hit the topic point blank It's jail ya better keep your shank Cause I got mine And I'm out on a solo creep (Uggga!) Your face hits the concrete You wanna roll With the niggas that don't play I think you got false courge Get out my damn way Cause the car I'm in Is rollin' full of men No kids or boys, E got the Mac 10 Islam's got the Zulu Nation back up DJ Aladdin's who Hooked the fuckin' track up Syndicate's make'n the move With the ski masks And I'm house'n the long cash So now you realize You underestimated the Ice You thought that I was OK But now you realize I'm nice But that's alright Cause I knew I'd mke it in the end Those who like me now Might not of liked me then But I'm a keep impressin' Stressin' my lesson And keep motherfuckers guessin' Armor plate my mind With walls and shields As I escape from the killing fields (I can understand) Mind over matter (I know what it means. Mind Power) Mind over matter Wise up Move the tempo of this hype groove You know this shit is dope So what you try'n to prove Vu's max as Evil E My niggaa dogs the wax My brain's a handgrenade-catch I'm a hit you with an over load Of bottomless thought Reversin' all the shit you're taught Then throw words at you Syl-la-ble-at-a-time Your brain recites the rhyme No matter what you do The power's over you when you sleep You'll be say'n these rhymes too Cause the brain has the power To control all Think positive You'll be unable to fall Brain cells swell Thought process becomes a trance Makes you feel posessed to dance I'll say I want a million My mind is so deep I'll be bustin' a check for it next week (Like the fellah's say...) Mind over matter (I know what it means. Mind Power) Mind over matter |
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| 6. |
| 4:45 |
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Hustler, word, I pull the trigger long,
Grit my teeth, spray till every nigga's gone. Got my block sewn, armored dope spots, Last thing I sweat's a sucka punk cop. Move like a king when I roll, hops, You try to flex, bang, another nigga drops. You gotta deal with this cause there's no way out, Why? Cash money ain't never gonna play out. I got nothin to lose, much to gain, In my brain, I got a capitalist migraine. I gotta get paid tonight, you muthafuckin right. [something] my grip, check my bitch, keep my game tight. So many hos on my jock, think I'm a movie star. Nineteen, I got a fifty thousand dollar car. Go to school, I ain't goin for it, Kiss my ass, bust the cap on the Moet. Cause I don't wanna hear that crap, Why? I'd rather be a New Jack-----Hustler (chorus) Hustler Hustler Hustler H-U-S-T-L-E-R hustler (kid drop in) Yo man you know what I'm sayin? You got it goin on my man, I like how it's goin down. You got the fly cars, the girls, the jewels. Look at that ring right there, I know it's real, it's gotta be real. Man, you the flyest nigga I seen in my life! Yo man, I just wanna roll with you man, How can I be down? What's up? You say you wanna be down? Ease back, or muthafucka get beat down. Out my face, fool I'm the illest, Bulletproof, I die harder than Bruce Willis. Got my crew in effect, I bought em new Jags, So much cash, gotta keep it in Hefty bags. All I think about is keys and Gs Imagine that, me workin at Mickey D's (ha ha ha ha). That's a joke cause I'm never gonna be broke, When I die there'll be bullets and gunsmoke. Ya don't like my lifestyle? Fuck you! I'm rollin with the New Jack crew. And I'm a hustler. H-U-S-T-L-E-R hustler New Jack, New Jack.......... Here I come, so you better break North, As I stride, my gold chains glide back and forth. I care nothing bout you, and that's evident. All I love's my dope and dead presidents. Sound crazy? Well it isn't. The ends justifies the means, that's the system. I learned that in school then I dropped out, Hit the streets, checked a grip, and now I got clout. I had nothing, and I wanted it. You had everything, and you flaunted it. Turned the needy into the greedy, With cocaine, my success came speedy. Got me twisted, jammed into a paradox. Every dollar I get, another brother drops. Maybe that's the plan, and I don't understand, God damn----you got me sinkin in quicksand. But since I don't know, and I ain't never learned, I gotta get paid, I got money to earn. With my posse, out on the ave, Bump my sounds, crack a forty and laugh. Cool out and watch my new Benz gleam, Is this a nightmare? Or the American dream? So think twice if you're coming down my block, You wanna journey through hell? Well shit gets hot. Pregnant teens, children's screams, Life is weighed on the scales of a triple beam. You don't come here much, and ya better not. Wrong move (bang), ambulance cot. I gotta get more money than you got, So what, if some muthafucka gets shot? That's how the game is played, Another brother slayed, the wound is deep BUT they're givin us a Band Aid. My education's low but I got long dough, Raised like a pit bull, my heart pumps nitro. Sleep on silk, lie like a politician, My Uzi's my best friend, cold as a mortician. Lock me up, it's genocidal catastrophe, There'll be another one after me! A hustler. Hustler. H-U-S-T-L-E-R hustler. New Jack, New Jack...... |
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| 7. |
| 1:10 |
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Let me tell ya a little story
Bout my homeboy Ed Use to drink every day Straight 40's to the head You try to snap on him He'd ask what you said You still try to break He'd start given up lead Love to gamble On one knee he stayed Tryin' to hit seven on one knee he stayed Worked tees and weights So he always got paid Blew on the hoes Every dollar he made Crazy friends, crazy friends he had Superfly drobe, super dope pad Cars for your ass and I'm talkin' class Benz's and better With his name on the dash One night he got drunk And started drivin' real fast... Ed's dead |
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| 8. |
| 5:24 |
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I once knew this brother Who I thought was cool with me Chilled out together Even went to school with me Fly nigga, my ace boon coon Used to low ride together Shot dice in the bathroom Ya want trouble? Well trouble ya found Cause we diss ya, then issue The critical beat down He needed money I would always come through Needed a car? He could use mine too But bust this! Out on the street People say he was riffin' Callin' me a sucker Talkin' bout how foul I'm livin' Someone heard him Poppin' that shit last week Frontin' for some pussy From some big butt freak Sayin' I'm his worker I was on his dick! Talkin' that craazy old weak assed shit and after all of that She still walked away How ya gonna diss your boy To get some play? And when I stepped to him about it He said, "Who snitched?" [CHORUS] Yo, how did he go out? He went out like a bitch! So ladies We ain't just talkin' bout you Cause some of you niggas Is bitches too! I knew this brother named Mitch Stone player He meet a girl, in five min. he lay her Trucked crazy jewels Hands smothered in ice Been to prison not once, but twice Kept a stupid thick posse Made of thugs and Crooks and hoods and vet hustlers Who were up to no good But they all stood behind him and watched his back That's the only way To roll on the track But yo, Mitch got rushed by feds last week The snatchbared the runk Of his white Corniche Took a look inside And what did they see? Two keys, and a gallon of PCP! Oh shit! The thought crashed Mitch's subliminal Three strikes, that's called Habitual criminal So insted of goin' under He snitched on his whole posse Maxed at the crib And sipped Martini and Rossi Sold out his whole crew That rat named Mitch [CHORUS] I knew this guy That was never that fly Couldn't act cool Even when he tried When we played rough He always cried When he told stories, he always lied A Black brother Who was missin' the cool part He had the color But was missin' the true heart When we would fight He would always go down quick So he took karate and he still got his ass kicked But now he's married And he kicks his wife's ass Says it comes from problems That he had in the past Doesn't like Blacks Claims he's upper class Joined the police, got himself a badge Now he rolls the streets and he's cut to jack Doggin' young brothers Cause they usually don't fight back Got a White partner And he asked for that and every night Another head they crack So now he's big man But he really ain't shit! [CHORUS] Out one night with my crew and some new kid I didn'T know homeboy, but Evil E did So I thought he was cool We rode in his ride Rag top tray on Daytons Lifted side to side We hit the party deep Niggas was hawkin' me You could feel the vibe Of thick artillery Parliament was on, some O.G. shit I put my back to the wall And felt my pistol grip al of a sudden Niggas started trippin' Flippin', the record started skippin' Wildin', fools started locn up Gats cracked The room started smokin' up Me and "E" hit the floor And then the back door My boys let off an automatic encore But when we made it out to the ride It was gone, we had to shoot it out Side by side Punk left us there to die in a ditch! [CHORUS]
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| 9. |
| 3:43 |
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Yo check this out
A lot of people get mad cause I use the word nigga You know what I'm saying they don't like the fact that I use the word nigga They say you a black man I tell em I'm a nigga they don't understand that So I'm a say what I wanna say I call myself what I wanna call myself You know what I'm saying So they can stay off my dick Damn right I'm a nigga And I don't care what you are Cause I'm a Capital N-I double-G-E-R Black people might get mad Cause they don't see That they're looked upon As a nigga just like me I'm a nigga, not a Coloured man Or a Black, or a Negro Or Afro American, I'm all that Yes I was born in America true Does South Central Look like America to you? I'm a nigga, a straight up nigga From a hard school Whatever you are I don't care, that is you fool I'm loud and proud Well endowed with the big beef Out on the corner I hang out like a horse thief So you can call me dumb or crazy Ignorant, stupid, inferior or lazy Silly or foolish But I'm badder and bigger And most of all I'm a straight up nigga That's right I'm a nigga My man lord finesse is my motherfucking nigga You know evil e's my nigga islam's my nigga That's right they're my niggas I'm a nigga in America And that much I flaunt Cause when I see what I like Yo I take what I want I'm not the only one That's why I'm not bitter Cause everybody is a nigga to a nigga! America was stole from he Indians Show and prove, what was that? A straight up nigga move A low down shame Yo it's straight insane Yet they complain When a nigga snatch Their gold chains What is nigga suppose to do? Wait around for a handout From a nigga like you? That's why a low down nigga gets hyped But I'm not a nigga of that type I'm a steak and lobster eatin Billionaire meetin Cash money makin, movin shakin Corporate jet glidin Limousine ridin Writin' hits, filthy rich Straight up nigga! That's right I'm a nigga Now I'm a write this song Though the radio won't play it But I got freedom of speech So I'm a say it She wanna be lez he wanna be gay But that's your business I'm straight So nigga have it your way Those who hate me I got sumthin for ya A nigga with cash a nigga with a lawyer Bot a watermelon eating @#%$ down south But a nigga that 'll smack the taste from your mouth A contemplating thinking best champagne drinkin Ten inch givin extra large livin Mercedes benz drivin strivin to survivin All the way livin and kickin hi fivin Strokin rap and happenin deal doing Fly in from cali to chill with the crewin Rhymin groovin fly girlie grabbin Horny gun shootin long hair havin Nigga Straight up nigga Nigga Straight up nigga Nigga Nigga that's right fool look at me Just the kinda nigga you'd like to hang from a tree But all you KKK type grave diggers Ease back fool cause I'm a trigger nigga I work real hard for my livin But I don't sell or brake bullshit thanksgivin Like some fool and eat turkey That's the day your forefathers jerked me Shipped us all over here in locks and chains Split us up twistin up a nigga's brain Now you keep me in constant sweat But I'm a nigga that you'll never forget A black bad iron clad always mad Fly nigga takin off from a helipad Rolex divin buck wilin cap pilin Sportin link chinks and medallions Incollectible hi tek cash and seven digit checks And still breakin necks The ultimate male supreme white woman's dream Big dick straight up nigga |
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| 10. |
| 4:43 |
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Ten years ago
I used to listen to rappers flow Talkin' bout the way They rocked the mic at the disco I liked how that shit was goin' down With my own sound So I tried to write rhymes Somethin' like them, my boys said, "That ain't you Ice, That shit sounds like HIM." So I sat back, thought up a new track Didn'T fantasize, kicked the pure Facts. Motherfuckers got scared Cause they weas unprepaired who would tell it how it relly was? Who dared? A motherfucker from the West Coast L.A. South Central fool Where the Crips and the Bloods play When I wrote about parties It didn't fit Six in the Mornin' That was the real shit CHORUS O.G. Original Gangster When I wrote about parties Someone always died When I tried to write happy Yo I knew I lied, I lived a life of crime Why play ya blind? A simple look and anyone with two cents would know I'm A hardcore player from the streets Rappin' bout hardcore topics Over hardcore drum beats a little different Than the average though Jet you thru the fast lane Drop ya on death row Cause anybody who's been there Knows that life ain't sho lovely On the blood-soaked fast track That invincible shit don't work Throw ya in a joint You'll be comin' out feet first So I blast the mic with my style Sometimes I'm ill The other times buck wild But the science is always there I'd be a true sucker If I acted like I didn'T care I rap for brothers just like myself Dazed by the game In a quest for extreme wealth But I kick it to you hard and real One wrong move, and your caps peeled I ain't no super hero I ain't no Marvel Comic But when it comes to game I'm atomic At droppin' it straight Point blank and untwisted No imagination needed, cause I lived it This ain't no fuckin' joke This shit is real to me I'm Ice-T O.G. Two weeks ago I was out at the disco Two brothers stepped up to me And said "Hey yo, Ice We don't think you're down What set ya claimin'?" E drew the Glock, yo my set's aimin'! Dumb motherfucker Try to roll on me, please! I'm protected by a thousand emcees and hoodlums and hustlers And bangers with Jeri curls we won't even count the girls Cause they got my back And I got theirs too Fight for the streets When I'm on Oprah or Donahue They try to sweat a nigga But they just didn'T figure What my wit's as quick as a hair trigger "He's not your everyday-type Prankster." I'm Ice-T, the original gangster So step to me If you think that you're ready to Got on your bullet proof? Well mine's goin' right thru This ain't no game to me It's hollow fame to me Without respect frome streets So I don't claim be The hardest motherfucker on earth Catch me slippin, I can even get worked But I don'T slip that often there's a coffin Waitin' for the brother Who comes off soft when The real fuckin' shit goes down Take a look around all them pussies can be found they talk a mean fight But fight like hoes I'm from South Central, fool Where everything goes Snatch you out your car so fast You'll get whiplash Numbers on your roof top For when the copters pass Gang bangers Don't carry no switch blades Every kid's got a Tec 9 or a Hand grenade Thirty-seven killed Last week in a crack war Hostges tied up And shot in a liquor store Nobody gives a fuck "The children have to go to school." Well, moms, good luck Cause the shit's fucked up bad I use my pad and pen And my lyrics break out mad I try to write about fun andthe goodtimes But the pen yanks away and explodes And destroys the rhyme Maybe it's just cause of where I'm from L.A. that was a shot gun! CHORUS |
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| 11. |
| 0:57 |
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You know the houe down the street
Where the kids are and every day They seem to have a new scar Something strange is going on And everybody knows Doors always shut Windows always closed The little girl had a burn The boy was black and blue They said it came from play You know that shit ain't true The boy's arm's broke Girl's scared to speak Their parents drink all day Couple of dead beats Some days they go to school And other days they might It's hard to stay awake After you cry all night You see 'em every daay Tear tracks on their cheeks But they will never tell It goes on weeks and weeks (But what can they do? They're only children man!) You ain't no fuckin' kid Act like you give a damn! Won't someone save these kids Do something, call a cop The other night I heard gun shots! |
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| 12. |
| 0:46 | 
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| 13. |
| 3:29 |
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Everybody step back from the mic
As I set it off All playin' the wall It's time to sweat it off Anybody with staatic oh please try I'll do ya like Godfather 3 And do a fly by Time to rip and hit and strangle I eat Guardian Angels And toy emcees With their names on the front page I bury in shallow graves I don't rap to girls on my L.P. I don't beg for pussy I love the ladies aand they love me right back Now who's the mac? Mission accomplished I came to stomp this microphone And leave suckers unconscious and if you uthink Yo got an S on your chest You better wear two vests Watch your back, your front I always hit, don't bunt Crazy posse When I'm on a duck hunt Emcee Ice-T answers to no one Load my rhymes And cock 'em like a shotgun Let off like frags from a pipe bomb A low stroll and my mic in my right palm The cops hate me And that's right they oughta Before my crew Gets to their daughters Nat the Cat M.C. Donald D. |
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| 14. |
| 5:49 |
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Midnight chillin' at A.M/P.M.
Coolin' drinkin' apple juice In Evil's BM The sound's up loud To attract attention Armoraled tires On a lowered suspension Nardi to steer with Alpine deck was glowin' Bumpinn' Big Daddy And the nigga was definitely flowin' I was ridin' shotgun Donald and Hen in back Look thru the tint recognized a jack Two brothers strolled up Talkin' bout get out Donald D blazed Shot one fool thru his fuckin' mouth Why would they step When they know we're strapped? I never cruise L.A. Without a Gat in my lap The other fool shot Caught the E in the shoulder blade I busted thru the car door That's where the nigga laid Hen jumped out Dropped two nines in his forehead Evil was bleedin' bad The car seats were turnin' red Looked to my left There were two more carloads Niggas in hats and hoods In an attack mode And they hadn't yet begun to fight E hit the gas It was one past midnight! Take me on a walk through hell... (screams) South Central Yo, E, drive! Drive, man drive, man! Fuck it! Just get the fuck outta here, man! We boned down Vernon Right on Normandie Left on Florence Gettin' thru the E.T.G.'s Spun out on Vermont Made a left on Colden Right on Hoover E where we goin'? He didn't even answer that Checked the rear view They were still out back Where were these brothers from? What made these brothers come? Bang! our back window Was removed by a shotgun Now Hen G was shot Don caught a ricochet These motherfuckers was ill They didn't come to play Bust a right turn, parked and then we got left Hid in the the bushes Shot the gas tank to fake death But would this really Keep them psyched? Three of us bleedin' It was ten past midnight! Midnight. Time for a homicide. (Screams) South Central C'mon, man. You all bleedin' bad, man. You got to keep up, man, we can't stop here. I really didn't like How this shit was goin' down Wrong night, wrong time Wrong fuckin' part of town Ya see we was deep In the Hoover's hood Three niggas bleedin' That shit don't look good! See over there red don't go Some places red's all they know But not our luck Tonight we was real fucked Broke down an alley And we instantly had to duck Fuckin' police on a gang sweep No time to deal with one time So we had to creep Broke thru a back yard Ran thru a vacant lot E, Hen and Don kept up To be some niggas shot Shit was gettin' craazy So I had to get busy Hen was bleedin' worse And Evil was gettin' dizzy Looked in a parking lot I needed a snatch bar Had to hot wire So I moved on an old car It was a bucket, but fuck it, it had to do Started it up And scooped my whole crew Two blocks later We saw fuckin' blue lights The pigs were behind us It was half past midnight! Take me on a walk through hell. South Central You all just lay down on the floor if this car, man. Fuck the police, man. I'm-a handle this. When they pulled us over Shit got worse I wait utill they got out And then I hit reverse Fucked 'em up, I seen one cop fall Threw it in gear, yo I'm outty yall Don't know how But somehow we got away Lost the jackers, the cops Dumped the G.T.A. Made it back to the hood Fixed the crew up And even though Evil's car blew up We made it home and then I crashed out Thinkin' bout my all-night death bout Then somethin' woke me up From my dark sleep The sound of fuckin' police When they're tryin' to creep Broke thru my door With no goddamn warning Looked at my watch It was six in the mornin'! |
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| 15. |
| 1:01 |
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Off to the studio late night
Time to cut another track It's gotta be hype Got my rhyme book in hand A blue loose leaf Anybody move on that They get loose teeth Evil's got the funky beat A stupid dope loop But the record's kind of old! (What we gonna do troop?) We gotta clean it up Cause it's so dope Tried the rubbing alcohol Even the Ivory soap But no matter what we do The record keeps clickin' FUCK IT! Evil E, give me some of that Damn fried chicken! |
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| 16. |
| 4:20 |
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| 17. |
| 3:51 |
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It's eight a.m. I roll out my silk sheets
Get fly crash the limo back seats Lookin' in the faces Of some ladies that I never met On the interview tip, no sweat They ask me questions I throw the words back They say they write facts I know that's bull crap They're kickin' drama But then drama's my middle name That's the price ya pay for big fame The cellular phone rings Dot wanta pick it up But it's my J-O-B I gotta kick it up Another damn reporter On the line with a word quiz I gotta show cause I'm livin' with the show Biz. Out the llimo, to the plane In the pourin' rain I hate flyin' But there's no time for slow trains another show to do I gotta caatch my crew They left last night In the bus around two The plane's a small one No fun at all Bouncin' round the air Like a tennis ball When it touches down I wanna kiss the ground But it's time to wreck a new town Get to the arena, meet up with the crew They tell me all the speakers blew The cordless don't work Sound man's a jerk Somebody's gonna get hurt I'm crazy mad But my fans want autographs I turn my angry frowns Into fake laughs I can't be rude Cause they wouldn't understand I in't human no more, I'm a superman CHORUS You can try But you'll never understand this You can try But you'll never understand this You can try But you'll never understand this The lifestyles of the rich a and infamous Four hours till show time oh well I might as well check in the hotel Get a little rest Before it's time to play Ten brothers standin' in the hallway All with demo tapes They need the hook up They heard that I was The one to look up I can't ditch 'em Cause they already saw me I'll put my head down Maybe they'll ignore me No chance "Ice what's goin' on?" I listened to twenty-five songs And after thaat The brothers still wouldn't leave They started lookin' at my T.V. I was gonna break down If they didn't jet soon Snuck across the hall And crashed in E's room But then this freak came in Thought I was E Straddled her legs across me Ripped off her blouse Pushed her breast against my face Started girating her waist. Sounds fly, Like a hype sex thriller? But see she looked like Godzilla Pushed her off me Home girl hit the floor This is what it's like on tour I hit the hallway it was crawlin' thick "Could we take this picture real quick?" Jumped into a pose That I used a million times before Took pictures With the whole damn floor I couldn't say no not to my fans You see they wouldn't understand CHORUS Now it's show time, time to flow time Evil lost the records But we still gotta go time The house is packed Everybody's on their feet So I say, "Throw on Rakim's beat." E hits the fader and the crowd is lit I start bustin' off some new shit The stage is so smokey That I almost fall off, I start inhalin' it I'm tryin' not to cough I'm catchin' problems from every angle The mic cords are tangled I try to flow smooth But my words are mangled Damn near slipped and broke my ankle If that ain't enough The police are hawkin' Listenin' real close To the words I'm talkin' They wanna put a brother like me In the back seat Just because I curse the beat They wanna tap my phone Wanna keep my crib bugged Call all my homes Felonist street thugs You might say I think this lifestyle sucks? I wouldn't tade it for a million bucks Although it's all Not glamour and gleam It's still my dream CHORUS |
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| 18. |
| 6:07 |
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God damn, what a brother gotta do
To get a message through To the red, white and blue What? I gotta die? Before you realize I was a brother with open eyes The world's insane While you drink champagne And I'm livin' in black rain You try to ban the A.K. I got ten of 'em stashed With a case of hand grenades (Tell us what to do?) Fuck you! (Tell us what to do?) Fuck you! (Tell us what to do?) Fuck you! (Tell us what to do?) Fuck you! You'd know what to do If a bullet hit your kid On the way to school Or a cop shot your kid in the back yard Shit would hit the fan and hit hard! CHORUS I hear it every night, another gun fight The tension mounts On with the body count! God damn what a brother gotta do To get a message through To the red, white and you? What? I gotta die? Before you realize I was a nigga with open eyes The world's insane While you drink champagne And I'm livin' in black rain Don't you hear the guns? You stupid, dumb, dick suckin' Bum politicians (Tell us what to do?) Fuck you! (Tell us what to do?) Fuck you! The tension mounts! |
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| 19. |
| 0:39 |
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Watch me flip and rip
On the freedom tip Open your mind See the point of the ice pick I stand tall While my brothers Still choose to crawl Black power, it7s in effect yall But you don't understand You're still a slave to the man Prepare for revolution Some sucker say we're free I gotta disagree Half my posse's in the penitentiary So I'm a drop and kick the science With defiance Because I have no alliance With suckas who choose Not to act Black When they are Black Get out my face with that You better ease back Cause Mandela did 27 hard ones Not in a windowed room But in a barred one While his wife had tears in her eyes The man is a hero He needs a Nobel Prize But that will never happen So I'm gonna keep rappin' Freein' my brothers' minds From their entrapment To silence the Ice, they'll probably Put a bullet in me But I'm prepared to die And Mandela's free! |
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| 20. |
| 2:36 |
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Here we go
I'm movin' off death row Ya gotta keep up hops Ya can't be slow Cuse their towers are high They got the hype gaats Check the perimeters good Read the maps It's night They might not see us Cuse if they catch us out there They'll bleed us Shoot us, kill us Dump us in a dark ditch Clean it up, call it a gang hit I gotta make my move Cause I'm a renegade I recognize when mind techniques Are being played It's a plot they use To keep down another Here comes another Brainwashed brother Shut up do you know How dumb you sound? That mentality What keeps my people down No one wants to Live in an urban war You live there cause Your parents were poor They live there because Theirs were also Get yourself together Hit the gates bro! CHORUS Ya gotta get out! Ya gotta get out! Why? Ya gotta get out! Ya gotta get out! Why? Ya gotta get out! Ya gotta get out! Why? Cause the fields Are where you die! Escape from The killing fields You try to keep us Running and running faster But I ain't runnin' from ya I'm runnin' at ya and my posse's thick About a mil strong Too late to make up now Cause it's on I'm the one that's got ya In constant fear I'm the nigga You shoulda killed last yeaar But you played yourself You let me gain wealth Now I can change the wy The cards are dealt I've schooled my homeboys Made 'em all understand The tricks nd twists Inflicted on the Black man How ya make me think to be down I gotta stay around Down in the motherfuckin' Battleground There'll never be any good Schools in the hood There'll never be any cops That are any good The hospital is a great place To go to die Real estate's cheap Let me tell ya why? The man's got a Sure fire system A economic prison! CHORUS Escape from The killing fields! |
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| 21. |
| 0:41 |
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(feat. Bodycount)
[Intro: Ice-T Talking] This next track is dedicated to some personal friends of mine, the L.A.P.D For every cop that's ever take an advantage off somebody Beat him down or hurt him, because they got long hair Listen to the wrong kind of music, bronde color Whatever they thought was the reason to do it For every one of those fuckin' police I'd like to take a pig out here in this parking lot And shoot them in their motherfuckin' face [Verse 1: Ice-T] Cop killer, yeah I got my black shirt on I got my black gloves on I got my ski mask on This shit's been too long I got my twelve gauge sawed off I got my headlights turned off I'm 'bout to bust some shots off I'm 'bout to dust some gats off...... [Chorus: Ice-T] I'ma Cop killer, better you than me Cop killer, fuck police brutality! Cop killer, I know your family's grieving, fuck them Cop killer, but tonight we get even [Verse 2: Ice-T] Ha ha, I got my brain on hype Tonight will be your night I got this long-Assed-Knife And your neck looks just right My adrenaline's pumpin' I got my stereo bumpin' I'm 'bout to kill me somethin' A pig stopped me for nothin'...... [Chorus: Ice-T] Cop killer, better you than me Cop killer, fuck police brutality Cop killer, I know your mama's grievin' so fuck her Cop killer, but tonight we get even [Break:] Yeah, die, die, die pig, die (*Gun Shot*) Die, die, die pig, die (*Gun Shot*) Fuck the police, fuck the police, fuck the police Fuck the police, fuck the police, fuck the police Fuck the police yeah...... [Chorus: Ice-T] Cop killer, better you than me I'ma Cop killer, fuck police brutality! Cop killer, I know your family's grievin' fuck them Cop killer, but tonight we get even Ha ha ha, yeah [Hook:] Fuck the police, Fuck the police, Fuck the police Fuck the police, Fuck the police, Fuck the police Fuck the police, Fuck the police, break it down Fuck the police, yeah Fuck the police, for Darryl Gates Fuck the police, for Rodney King Fuck the police, for my dead homies Fuck the police, for your freedom Fuck the police, don't be a pussy Fuck the police, have some motherfuckin' courage Fuck the police, sing along..... Cop killer, cop killer, cop killer Cop killer, cop killer What you're gonna be when you grown up? Cop killer, good choice, cop killer I'ma motherfuckin' cop killer [Chorus: Ice-T] Cop killer, better you than me Cop killer, fuck police brutality Cop killer, I know your mama's grievin' (fuck her) Cop killer, but tonight we get even |
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| 22. |
| 4:17 |
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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 And come to your house Cut off your power And do you with the lights out! Is this real or fiction? You'll never know CHORUS A pool of blood and floating body parts Would make me grin A close view of a razor When it's breaking skin If you were burnin' I'd use gasoline to put you out Cause I walk alone And choose the dark route Nightmares gotta be loved by some And I'm the one Ya wanna come, bring your shotgun You ever see your partner die? No? Well I have! You ever see your father die? No? Well I have! You ever see your mother die? No? Well I have! So shut the fuck up, punk And clear the rhyme path! What would make meel calm and nice Is a slow slice Through your jugular and windpipe Throw me in jail I won't even try to make bail Put me in the gas chamber And watch me inhale! Is this true or false? Well you'll never know CHORUS Jason, Tales from the Crypt And the Dark Side Another fly murder, another suicide Did these flicks Have an influence on my brain? I really doubt that shit I think that I was born insane When I was young I had a lust for knives and guns Use a magnifying glass To fry an ant with the sun And on and on My lust for death got bigger At fifteen I was placed behind a trigger Although I'm dirty Not the one to be swept up step up, I'd love to open your chest up I've got no concept of life or death All I want is your last breath Give me a motherfuckin' break I should behave Give me a motherfuckin' shovel I'll dig graves! I break ill in extra large portions where's your parents I'll make you an orphan So when you're talkin' crazy You better think of me The I, to the C, to the E, to the fuckin' T! There'll be no tears No screams or cries, just a laser beam Between your fuckin' eyes You feel strange well now you know CHORUS |
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| 23. |
| 3:58 |
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I'm rollin' up in a big gray bus
And I'm shackled down Myself that's who I trust The minute I arrived Some sucker got hit Shanked ten times Behind some bullshit Word in the pen the fool was a snitch So without hesitatin' I made a weapon quick If found a sharp piece of metal Taped it to a stick Then a bullhorn sounds That means it's time for chow My first prison meal The whole feeling was foul It wasn't quite my style But my stomach growled So I flushed the shit down And hit the weight pile The brothers was swole The attitudes was cold Felt the tension on the yard From the young and the old But I'm a warrior I got my ground to hold So I studied the inmates To see who hd the power the Whites? The Blacks? Or just the gun tower! In a blink of an eye, a riot broke out Blacks put their backs to the wall Cause it was north and south A gun man shouts And everybody had doubt Until the bullets started fly'n Took two men out Thn they rushed everybody Back to their cells Damn the pen is different than The county jail I'm in a one man cell I know my life's on a scale I wonder if that gunman is goin' to hell This is my second day I got a ten year stay I learned my first lesson In the pen you don't plaay I saw a brother kill another Cause he said he was gay But that's the way it is It been that way for years and when his body hit the ground I heard a couple of cheers It kind of hurt me inside That they were glad he died and I ask myself Just who had the power? The Whites? The Blacks? Or just the gun tower! You see the Whites got a thing The call White pride The Blacks got the muscle Mexicans got the knives You better be wise You wanna stay alive Go toe to toe with a sucka No matter wht size A fool tried to sweat me Act'n like he was hard I stuck him twice in the neck And left him dead in the yard It was smooth how I did it Cause nobody could see With my jacket on my arm And my knife on the side of me Bam bam, it was over Another one bites the dust I went crazy in the pen With nobody to trust Bench'n ten quarters, so I'm hard to sweat Used a tat gun, and engrved my set They call me a lifer Cause I'm good as dead I live in the hole, so the floor's my bed And I ask myself again Who has the power The Whites? The Blacks? Or just the gun tower |
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| 24. |
| 1:42 |
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Before I go id like to say a few things. this album was completed on january 15th 1991. By now the war has probably started and a whole bunch of people have probably died out there in the desert over some bullshit. Theres a war goin on right now in my neighborhood but I cant really determine which one is worse..I think the one that we are all fightin is fucked up and thats the war inside out brains you know. but uh I feel bad about all the brothers and sisters gettin pulled right out of their neighborhoods all the citys and small towns in america that go over there and fight for that bullshit. that most of them dont really have anything to do with. So I gotta send peace out to em. Also peace out to all my homies in jail brothers that are dead locked up right here on earth..talkin about the brothers in solidad, san quetin, all the way up to pelicans bay, tracy, chino, and all my homeboys out there in the east coast lockdown facilities. Im talkin about clinton, rikers, jolead, you know every prison in the whold fuckin world man, thats like you know all bullshit you know. they say slavery has been abolished except for the convicted felon yall need to think about that. that lets you know what the fuckin constitution is really about you know. Alot of my homeboys have been locked down
my whole entire career and thats some bullshit. So for them from the Rhyme Syndicate and Ice-T Id like to send this special shout out...Fuck the police, Fuck the FBI, Fuck the DEA, Fuck the CIA, Fuck Tipper Gore, Bush and his cripple bitch this is Ice-T im out of here, told ya you shoulda killed me last year.. |
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