Syndicate fool!!
L.A. -- Home of the Bodybag
Ice-T; a young player bred in South Central
Colors, colors, Syndicate fool
A young player bred in South Central
Six in the morning, Ice-T
L.A. -- Home of the Bodybag
You played yourself with Syndicate fool
Ice-T, Ice-T; a young player bred in South Central
High Rollers, High Rollers, Syndicate fool
Ice-T, L.A., Home of the Bodybag
My lethal weapon is my mind, my lethal weapon is my mind
Ice-T, Ice-T; Syndicate fool
I'm your pusher, I'm your pusher
Ice-T; a young player bred in South Central
Squeeze the trigger, squeeze the trigger, Syndicate fool
Ice-T, pimping ain't easy, pimping ain't easy
Drama, drama; Ice-T, Syndicate fool
Peel their caps back, peel their caps back
Ice-T, Ice-T; a young player bred in South Central
Power, power, Syndicate fool
L.A. -- Home of the Bodybag
Iceberg, iceberg, Ice-T
Syndicate fool,Let's get butt naked and f*ck!
Let's get butt naked and f*ck!
Ice-T, Ice-T; a young player bred in South Central
Sex, Sex, Ice-T, L.A. -- Home of the Bodybag!
Syndicate fool, O.G. (*Echoes*)
Ice-T - O.G. Original Gangster Album Lyrics
Ice-T - O.G. Original Gangster Lyrics
- Home of the Bodybag
- First Impression
- Ziplock
- Mic Contract
- Mind Over Matter
- New Jack Hustler (Nino's Theme)
- Ed
- Bitches 2
- Straight Up Nigga
- O.G. Original Gangster
- The House
- Evil E - What About Sex?
- Fly By
- Midnight
- Fried Chicken
- M.V.P.S.
- Lifestyles Of The Rich And Infamous
- Body Count
- Prepared To Die
- Escape From The Killing Fields
- Street Killer
- Pulse of the Rhyme
- The Tower
- Ya Shoulda Killed Me Last Year
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
First Impression
Upon initial 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 jaargon,
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
Antidisestblishmentarianism who
Embodies the entire spectrum of the
Urban experience and struggle.
But to make things more plain and
Simple to the lymn, I find Ice-T to be
The dopest, flyist, O.G. pimp hustler
Gangster plyer hardcore
Motherf*cker living today.
To be honest I'm totally and
Irrevocably on his dick
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 jaargon,
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
Antidisestblishmentarianism who
Embodies the entire spectrum of the
Urban experience and struggle.
But to make things more plain and
Simple to the lymn, I find Ice-T to be
The dopest, flyist, O.G. pimp hustler
Gangster plyer hardcore
Motherf*cker living today.
To be honest I'm totally and
Irrevocably on his dick
Writer: TRACY LAUREN MARROW
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Ziplock
Once again I'm back in the place to be
The I, the see, the E, the T
I'll never get a Grammy, so f*ck the G
All I need is crowd, and my M-I-see
Got a gangster ass DJ named Evil E
My record label's called Warner be
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!!!
The I, the see, the E, the T
I'll never get a Grammy, so f*ck the G
All I need is crowd, and my M-I-see
Got a gangster ass DJ named Evil E
My record label's called Warner be
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!!!
Writer: ALPHONSO HENDERSON, TRACY LAUREN MARROW
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Mic Contract
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 f*ck 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 motherf*ckin' 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 f*ck 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 own 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 motherf*cker
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 f*ck
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
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 f*ck 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 motherf*ckin' 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 f*ck 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 own 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 motherf*cker
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 f*ck
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
Writer: ALPHONSO HENDERSON, TRACY LAUREN MARROW
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Mind Over Matter
It's been a long while
Since I hit ya with freestyle
High tech selections
From the vaults of the Ice files
Kick back relax
And watch as I melt wax
Don't ever let a borther llike me
Ride a dope track
Cause once I hit it with the vocltone
It's mine, have motherf*ckers
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 relly ain't
How much you say
It's what you sy
I got no f*ckin' 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 faans
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 motherf*ckin'
Book's complete
Then I write on the
Back of the sheets
I maade 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
CHORUS
Mind over matter
I can drop rhymes in twos,
And threes and fours
Nd still have much shit
Left for encores
Cause once my mind locks
In on a dope idea
Mothercukin' 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 want to 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 f*ckin' 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 motherf*ckers guessin'
Armor plate my mind
With walls and shields
As I escape from the killing fields
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 possessed to dance
I'll say I want a million
My mind is so deep
I'll be bustin' a check for it next week
CHORUS
Since I hit ya with freestyle
High tech selections
From the vaults of the Ice files
Kick back relax
And watch as I melt wax
Don't ever let a borther llike me
Ride a dope track
Cause once I hit it with the vocltone
It's mine, have motherf*ckers
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 relly ain't
How much you say
It's what you sy
I got no f*ckin' 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 faans
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 motherf*ckin'
Book's complete
Then I write on the
Back of the sheets
I maade 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
CHORUS
Mind over matter
I can drop rhymes in twos,
And threes and fours
Nd still have much shit
Left for encores
Cause once my mind locks
In on a dope idea
Mothercukin' 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 want to 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 f*ckin' 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 motherf*ckers guessin'
Armor plate my mind
With walls and shields
As I escape from the killing fields
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 possessed to dance
I'll say I want a million
My mind is so deep
I'll be bustin' a check for it next week
CHORUS
Writer: ALPHONSO HENDERSON, TRACY LAUREN MARROW
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
New Jack Hustler (Nino's Theme)
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 muthaf*ckin 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 want to hear that crap,
Why? I'd rather be a New Jack-----Hustler
Hustler
Hustler
Hustler
H-you-S-T-L-E-are 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 want to roll with you man,
How can I be down?
What's up? You say you want to be down?
Ease back, or muthaf*cka 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? F*ck you!
I'm rollin with the New Jack crew.
And I'm a hustler.
H-you-S-T-L-E-are 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 want to 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 muthaf*cka 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-you-S-T-L-E-are hustler.
New Jack, New Jack......
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 muthaf*ckin 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 want to hear that crap,
Why? I'd rather be a New Jack-----Hustler
Hustler
Hustler
Hustler
H-you-S-T-L-E-are 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 want to roll with you man,
How can I be down?
What's up? You say you want to be down?
Ease back, or muthaf*cka 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? F*ck you!
I'm rollin with the New Jack crew.
And I'm a hustler.
H-you-S-T-L-E-are 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 want to 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 muthaf*cka 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-you-S-T-L-E-are hustler.
New Jack, New Jack......
Writer: TRACY LAUREN MARROW, ALPHONSO HENDERSON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Sentric Music, Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Sentric Music, Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Ed
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
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
Writer: TRACY LAUREN MARROW
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Bitches 2
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
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
Writer: GEORGE CLINTON, WILLIAM BOOTSY COLLINS, ALPHONSO HENDERSON, TRACY MARROW, BERNARD WORRELL
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, A SIDE MUSIC LLC D/B/A MODERN WORKS MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, A SIDE MUSIC LLC D/B/A MODERN WORKS MUSIC PUBLISHING
Straight Up Nigga
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 want to say I call myself what I want to 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-are
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 motherf*cking 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 want to be lez he want to 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
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 want to say I call myself what I want to 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-are
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 motherf*cking 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 want to be lez he want to 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
Writer: MELVIN GLOVER, TRACY LAUREN MARROW
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
O.G. Original Gangster
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 them."
So I sat back, thought up a new track
Didn'T fantasize, kicked the pure
Facts. Motherf*ckers got scared
Cause they weas unprepaired
who would tell it how it relly was?
Who dared?
A motherf*cker 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 fromhe 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 blst 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 you 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 f*ckin' 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 motherf*cker
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 motherf*cker 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 f*ckin' 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 f*ck
"The children have to go to school."
Well, moms, good luck
Cause the shit's f*cked 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]
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 them."
So I sat back, thought up a new track
Didn'T fantasize, kicked the pure
Facts. Motherf*ckers got scared
Cause they weas unprepaired
who would tell it how it relly was?
Who dared?
A motherf*cker 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 fromhe 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 blst 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 you 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 f*ckin' 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 motherf*cker
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 motherf*cker 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 f*ckin' 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 f*ck
"The children have to go to school."
Well, moms, good luck
Cause the shit's f*cked 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]
Writer: Alphonso Henderson, Tracy Marrow
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
The House
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 f*ckin' 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!
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 f*ckin' 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!
Writer: ALPHONSO HENDERSON, TRACY LAUREN MARROW
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Evil E - What About Sex?
[Evil E]
Yo Ice man, we halfway done with the album man
You be throwin all this strong, dope, stupid fly pimp shit
But what's up with the sex rhymes man?
You ain't throw no sex rhymes yet man, whassup with that?
[Ice-T]
Yo man, I didn't even wanna really do nothing this year man
[Evil E]
Yo why you ain't wanna do nuttin man?
Titties man~! Sex sex sex man, all that
We need some sex
[Ice-T]
(laughing) Man I wasn't really about that homes
Y'know I..
[Evil E]
C'mon man! Just throw one sex joint man
For me and my boys man, me and my man
The niggas man, WHASSUP!
[Ice-T]
Aight aight aight check this out E, check this out
The other night I was out at the club aight?
(Uh-huh, what happened what happened?)
I met this FLY-ASS freak, crazy fly
(Word, she was dope?) Dope, had BIG ol' titties aight
(Ohh shit, BIG titties!)
Crazy titties and a BIG ol' ass right?
(Ohhh shit.. what happened?)
Yo Ice man, we halfway done with the album man
You be throwin all this strong, dope, stupid fly pimp shit
But what's up with the sex rhymes man?
You ain't throw no sex rhymes yet man, whassup with that?
[Ice-T]
Yo man, I didn't even wanna really do nothing this year man
[Evil E]
Yo why you ain't wanna do nuttin man?
Titties man~! Sex sex sex man, all that
We need some sex
[Ice-T]
(laughing) Man I wasn't really about that homes
Y'know I..
[Evil E]
C'mon man! Just throw one sex joint man
For me and my boys man, me and my man
The niggas man, WHASSUP!
[Ice-T]
Aight aight aight check this out E, check this out
The other night I was out at the club aight?
(Uh-huh, what happened what happened?)
I met this FLY-ASS freak, crazy fly
(Word, she was dope?) Dope, had BIG ol' titties aight
(Ohh shit, BIG titties!)
Crazy titties and a BIG ol' ass right?
(Ohhh shit.. what happened?)
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Fly By
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 Grandmaster Caz
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 Grandmaster Caz
Writer: TRACY LAUREN MARROW
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Midnight
Midnight chillin' at A.M P.M.
Coolin' drinkin' apple juice
In Evil's BM
The sound's up loud
To attract attention
rmoraled 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 f*ckin' 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
Caut the E in the shoulder blade
I busted thru the ca 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!
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 reaar 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 motherf*ckers 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!
I really didn't like
How this shit was goin' down
Wrong night, wrong time
Wrong f*ckin' 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 f*cked
Borke down an alley
And we instantly had to duck
F*ckin' 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 f*ck it, it had to do
Started it up
And scooped my whole crew
Two blocks later
We saw f*ckin' blue lights
The pigs were behind us
It was half past midnight!
When they pulled us over
Shit got worse
I waited till they got out
And then I hit reverse
F*cked '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 f*ckin' 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'!
Coolin' drinkin' apple juice
In Evil's BM
The sound's up loud
To attract attention
rmoraled 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 f*ckin' 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
Caut the E in the shoulder blade
I busted thru the ca 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!
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 reaar 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 motherf*ckers 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!
I really didn't like
How this shit was goin' down
Wrong night, wrong time
Wrong f*ckin' 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 f*cked
Borke down an alley
And we instantly had to duck
F*ckin' 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 f*ck it, it had to do
Started it up
And scooped my whole crew
Two blocks later
We saw f*ckin' blue lights
The pigs were behind us
It was half past midnight!
When they pulled us over
Shit got worse
I waited till they got out
And then I hit reverse
F*cked '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 f*ckin' 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'!
Writer: Tracy Lauren Marrow, Alphonso Henderson
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Fried Chicken
Yo nigga, yo momma got two feet growing out her titties
Bitch fell down and kept runnin'
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!
Yo E, gimme some of that damn fried chicken!
Aw yeah (aw yeah)
Aw yeah, this sound kinda nice (definitely got flow)
I don't think niggas gon' hear that crackling, man, we should use this
Yo, f*ck that, yeah bro, we can EQ that out
Oh yeah, I'm liking how this going down, word
Bitch fell down and kept runnin'
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!
Yo E, gimme some of that damn fried chicken!
Aw yeah (aw yeah)
Aw yeah, this sound kinda nice (definitely got flow)
I don't think niggas gon' hear that crackling, man, we should use this
Yo, f*ck that, yeah bro, we can EQ that out
Oh yeah, I'm liking how this going down, word
Writer: ALPHONSO HENDERSON, TRACY LAUREN MARROW
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
M.V.P.S.
[Intro: Ice-T]
Yo, yo, what's up this is MC Ice-T
I'm here to kick off the MVPs for the 90's
You know, I'm talkin about my most valuable player buddies
You know, so I'ma drop them on you like this
Check it out
[Ice-T]
to the brothers who put me on in Hip-Hop
I'm talkin' bout grandmaster Kazz, grandmaster Melle Mel
Afrika Islam, Africa Bambaataa, Roger from Encore Jams out here in L.A.
The Unknown DJ and the man called AJ used to run the radio
Peace out, without you I wouldn't be gettin' it on you know what I'm sayin?
And y'all all are players (players, players)
to some of the rappers that gave me respect when others were dissin' me
I'm talkin' bout the man Jalil, the one Ecstasy
And the man Grandmaster Dee, I'm talkin 'bout Whodini
And also the Force M.D.
You treated a brother real cool back in the day
And I ain't forgot that you know what I'm sayin
all those other rappers were treatin me like suckers, F*CK EM
Cause y'all are players
To Run-D.M.C. who kept rap alive when rap was about to take a dive
You know what I'm sayin? You are the "Kings of Rock"
Peace out, y'all are players
players, players
[Ice-T]
straight up, to my true player buddies I'm talkin' about
Big Daddy Kane, you'se a player to your motherf*ckin' heart
yeah you know you my nigga, peace
to Biz Markie, yeaaaa boy you know the Biz
remember back on the bus, when we had the bus and was sharin' it Biz?
yeah, I ain't forgot it you my nigga. word
Eric B. & Rakim and the man Ant
Yeah true niggaz with attitudes..to King Sun peace god
to Chuck, Flavor and Griff y'all are still one group as far as I'm concerned
and y'all are true players
to KRS-One and D-Nice and Scott LaRock
I talk to you everynight Scott, you know what time it is
and the BDP posse, they're all players
players, players, players
[Ice-T]
that's right, to Luke Skyywalker and my man Marquis and Mr. Mixx
keep it bumpin' down there in Miami cause y'all are players
To the EPMD true players, to my man ' Moe Dee
Easy Lee and the whole crew y'all are players
to my man Daddy O and the Set Posse, players
to MC Lyte and Queen Latifah, two ladies
that got all the Ice's respect and that's right
that's right girls, y'all are players (players, players)
To my west coast niggaz, I'm talkin' about Too $hort
nigga you in the house, Short Dawg, peace out my man
that's right homeboy, cause you'se a motherf*ckin' player
to the Amerikkkas Most Wanted, I'm talkin' about Ice Cube
we always been cool and we will always be cool
cause you my main man, and you'se a player
to Eazy-E, N.W.A. and The D.O.C.
there's a lot of static goin' on between you and Da Lench Mob
but I can't forget the days we all used to tour together
you know what I'm sayin' so you got my respect
and you're motherf*ckin' players
players, players
[Ice-T]
to my man King Tee, seem like he can't think without a drink
but he's a player, he's a player got to admit it
Tila you're a goddamn player
To Tone Loc, Boo Ya and the man Kid Frost
Y'all be out tearin' up clubs literally and you're true players
Yo the one and only trigger happy Geto Boys
It took along time and I was there I seen you brothers comin up
But now you in motherf*ckin effect
and you're God damn players (players, players, players)
Ha ha, to the Syndicate too many to name y'all right here in the studio
So why I'ma name ya?
I'm lookin' right at ya, and y'all know I ain't even got to tell y'all
Y'all are players; peace out to my manager George
I tought you how to be a player, and you're doin' well
To the Crime Crew good to see y'all out of jail
And y'all are all players
Remember back in the day we used to rob jewelry stores together
To the producers Afrika Islam, the one and only DJ Aladdin (Aladdin, Aladdin)
SLJ Rock Bottom, and the man called Bilal
Peace out, y'all made this record hit and y'all players
Special shout out is goin' out to the one and only MC Hammer
A lot of people diss you man, they just jealous
F*ck 'em, f*ck 'em, f*ck 'em, f*ck 'em, f*ck 'em...
Yo, yo, what's up this is MC Ice-T
I'm here to kick off the MVPs for the 90's
You know, I'm talkin about my most valuable player buddies
You know, so I'ma drop them on you like this
Check it out
[Ice-T]
to the brothers who put me on in Hip-Hop
I'm talkin' bout grandmaster Kazz, grandmaster Melle Mel
Afrika Islam, Africa Bambaataa, Roger from Encore Jams out here in L.A.
The Unknown DJ and the man called AJ used to run the radio
Peace out, without you I wouldn't be gettin' it on you know what I'm sayin?
And y'all all are players (players, players)
to some of the rappers that gave me respect when others were dissin' me
I'm talkin' bout the man Jalil, the one Ecstasy
And the man Grandmaster Dee, I'm talkin 'bout Whodini
And also the Force M.D.
You treated a brother real cool back in the day
And I ain't forgot that you know what I'm sayin
all those other rappers were treatin me like suckers, F*CK EM
Cause y'all are players
To Run-D.M.C. who kept rap alive when rap was about to take a dive
You know what I'm sayin? You are the "Kings of Rock"
Peace out, y'all are players
players, players
[Ice-T]
straight up, to my true player buddies I'm talkin' about
Big Daddy Kane, you'se a player to your motherf*ckin' heart
yeah you know you my nigga, peace
to Biz Markie, yeaaaa boy you know the Biz
remember back on the bus, when we had the bus and was sharin' it Biz?
yeah, I ain't forgot it you my nigga. word
Eric B. & Rakim and the man Ant
Yeah true niggaz with attitudes..to King Sun peace god
to Chuck, Flavor and Griff y'all are still one group as far as I'm concerned
and y'all are true players
to KRS-One and D-Nice and Scott LaRock
I talk to you everynight Scott, you know what time it is
and the BDP posse, they're all players
players, players, players
[Ice-T]
that's right, to Luke Skyywalker and my man Marquis and Mr. Mixx
keep it bumpin' down there in Miami cause y'all are players
To the EPMD true players, to my man ' Moe Dee
Easy Lee and the whole crew y'all are players
to my man Daddy O and the Set Posse, players
to MC Lyte and Queen Latifah, two ladies
that got all the Ice's respect and that's right
that's right girls, y'all are players (players, players)
To my west coast niggaz, I'm talkin' about Too $hort
nigga you in the house, Short Dawg, peace out my man
that's right homeboy, cause you'se a motherf*ckin' player
to the Amerikkkas Most Wanted, I'm talkin' about Ice Cube
we always been cool and we will always be cool
cause you my main man, and you'se a player
to Eazy-E, N.W.A. and The D.O.C.
there's a lot of static goin' on between you and Da Lench Mob
but I can't forget the days we all used to tour together
you know what I'm sayin' so you got my respect
and you're motherf*ckin' players
players, players
[Ice-T]
to my man King Tee, seem like he can't think without a drink
but he's a player, he's a player got to admit it
Tila you're a goddamn player
To Tone Loc, Boo Ya and the man Kid Frost
Y'all be out tearin' up clubs literally and you're true players
Yo the one and only trigger happy Geto Boys
It took along time and I was there I seen you brothers comin up
But now you in motherf*ckin effect
and you're God damn players (players, players, players)
Ha ha, to the Syndicate too many to name y'all right here in the studio
So why I'ma name ya?
I'm lookin' right at ya, and y'all know I ain't even got to tell y'all
Y'all are players; peace out to my manager George
I tought you how to be a player, and you're doin' well
To the Crime Crew good to see y'all out of jail
And y'all are all players
Remember back in the day we used to rob jewelry stores together
To the producers Afrika Islam, the one and only DJ Aladdin (Aladdin, Aladdin)
SLJ Rock Bottom, and the man called Bilal
Peace out, y'all made this record hit and y'all players
Special shout out is goin' out to the one and only MC Hammer
A lot of people diss you man, they just jealous
F*ck 'em, f*ck 'em, f*ck 'em, f*ck 'em, f*ck 'em...
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Lifestyles Of The Rich And Infamous
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]
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]
Writer: CHARLES GLEN, TRACY MARROW ICE-T
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Body Count
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?) F*ck you!
(Tell us what to do?) F*ck you!
(Tell us what to do?) F*ck you!
(Tell us what to do?) F*ck 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?) F*ck you!
(Tell us what to do?) F*ck you!
The tension mounts!
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?) F*ck you!
(Tell us what to do?) F*ck you!
(Tell us what to do?) F*ck you!
(Tell us what to do?) F*ck 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?) F*ck you!
(Tell us what to do?) F*ck you!
The tension mounts!
Writer: TRACY LAUREN MARROW
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Prepared To Die
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 y'all
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!
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 y'all
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!
Writer: TRACY LAUREN MARROW
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Escape From The Killing Fields
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 motherf*ckin'
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!
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 motherf*ckin'
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!
Writer: GLEN CHARLES, TRACY MARROW ICE-T
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Street Killer
OK check this out, I got a crazy posse
I got the stupidest motherf*ckin' posse in the whole goddamn city
You f*ck with me I'll snatch out your car
Right in front of your goddamned bitch
And beat you down right there
I got more guns than anybody
I got crazy guns, you know, I got homeboys on motorcycles
And when we come we wearin' our blue
You know what I'm sayin'?
And I'll beat your f*ckin' ass
Don't nobody call me on my name
Cause they'll get smacked the f*ck up, you know
Can't put me in jail
You can't even f*ck with me
Cause I'm the craziest motherf*cker on the street
Don't nobody want none of this
You know what I'm sayin'?
Cause if you f*ck with me or any of my friends
You'll get killed, point blank
"Excuse me sir, Officer Johnson, Internal Affairs
We'd like to have a few words with you"
I got the stupidest motherf*ckin' posse in the whole goddamn city
You f*ck with me I'll snatch out your car
Right in front of your goddamned bitch
And beat you down right there
I got more guns than anybody
I got crazy guns, you know, I got homeboys on motorcycles
And when we come we wearin' our blue
You know what I'm sayin'?
And I'll beat your f*ckin' ass
Don't nobody call me on my name
Cause they'll get smacked the f*ck up, you know
Can't put me in jail
You can't even f*ck with me
Cause I'm the craziest motherf*cker on the street
Don't nobody want none of this
You know what I'm sayin'?
Cause if you f*ck with me or any of my friends
You'll get killed, point blank
"Excuse me sir, Officer Johnson, Internal Affairs
We'd like to have a few words with you"
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Pulse of the Rhyme
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 f*ck 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 f*ck 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 motherf*ckin' break
I should behave
Give me a motherf*ckin' 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 f*ckin' T!
There'll be no tears
No screams or cries, just a laser beam
Between your f*ckin' eyes
You feel strange well now you know
[CHORUS]
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 f*ck 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 f*ck 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 motherf*ckin' break
I should behave
Give me a motherf*ckin' 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 f*ckin' T!
There'll be no tears
No screams or cries, just a laser beam
Between your f*ckin' eyes
You feel strange well now you know
[CHORUS]
Writer: ALPHONSO HENDERSON, TRACY LAUREN MARROW
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
The Tower
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 want to 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
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 want to 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
Writer: RASHIR BILAL, TRACY LAUREN MARROW
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Ya Shoulda Killed Me Last Year
Before I go, I'd 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
There's a war goin' on right now in my neighborhood, but I can't really determine which one is worse
I think the one that we are all fightin' is f*cked up, and that's the war inside our brains, you know?
But, uh, I feel bad about all the brothers and sisters gettin' pulled right out of their neighborhoods, all the cities, and small towns in America that go over there and fight for that bullshit That most of them don't 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 Soledad, San Quentin, all the way up to Pelicans' Bay, Tracy, Chino, and all my homeboys out there in the east coast lockdown facilities. I'm talkin' about Clinton, Rikers, Joliet, you know every prison in the whole f*ckin' world man, that's like, you know, all bullshit, you know?
They say slavery has been abolished except for the convicted felon; y'all need to think about that. That lets you know what the f*ckin' Constitution is really about, you know?
A lot 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, I'd like to send this special shout out: F*ck the police, f*ck the FBI, f*ck the DEA, f*ck the CIA, f*ck Tipper Gore, Bush and his cripple bitch! This is Ice-T, I'm out of here. Told ya you shoulda killed me last year!
By now, the war has probably started and a whole bunch of people have probably died out there in the desert over some bullshit
There's a war goin' on right now in my neighborhood, but I can't really determine which one is worse
I think the one that we are all fightin' is f*cked up, and that's the war inside our brains, you know?
But, uh, I feel bad about all the brothers and sisters gettin' pulled right out of their neighborhoods, all the cities, and small towns in America that go over there and fight for that bullshit That most of them don't 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 Soledad, San Quentin, all the way up to Pelicans' Bay, Tracy, Chino, and all my homeboys out there in the east coast lockdown facilities. I'm talkin' about Clinton, Rikers, Joliet, you know every prison in the whole f*ckin' world man, that's like, you know, all bullshit, you know?
They say slavery has been abolished except for the convicted felon; y'all need to think about that. That lets you know what the f*ckin' Constitution is really about, you know?
A lot 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, I'd like to send this special shout out: F*ck the police, f*ck the FBI, f*ck the DEA, f*ck the CIA, f*ck Tipper Gore, Bush and his cripple bitch! This is Ice-T, I'm out of here. Told ya you shoulda killed me last year!
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
O.G. Original Gangster is the fourth studio album by American rapper Ice-T, released May 14, 1991, by Sire Records. Recording took place from July 1990 to January 1991 in Los Angeles. Its production was handled by seven producers: Afrika Islam, Beatmaster V, Bilal Bashir, DJ Aladdin, Nat the Cat, SLJ and Ice-T himself, who also served as executive producer. It features guest appearances from Body Count, Prince Whipper Whip and various Rhyme Syndicate artists, such as Donald D, Evil E and Randy Mac.
The album peaked at number 15 on the U.S. Billboard 200 and number 9 on the Top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums chart. On July 24, 1991, it was certified gold by the Recording Industry Association of America, indicating U.S. sales of more than 500,000 units. O.G. Original Gangster was ranked at #25 in Melody Maker's list of the top 30 albums of 1991, and was featured in The Source's 100 Best Rap Albums and the book 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die. The album was praised by many as his best.
Performed By:
Ice-TThe album peaked at number 15 on the U.S. Billboard 200 and number 9 on the Top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums chart. On July 24, 1991, it was certified gold by the Recording Industry Association of America, indicating U.S. sales of more than 500,000 units. O.G. Original Gangster was ranked at #25 in Melody Maker's list of the top 30 albums of 1991, and was featured in The Source's 100 Best Rap Albums and the book 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die. The album was praised by many as his best.
Genre(s): Gangsta rap
Producer(s): Ice-T (also exec.), DJ Aladdin, Afrika Islam, Slej Tha Ruffedge, Bilal Bashir, Beatmaster V, Nat the Cat, Ice-T
Length: 72:17
Released: May 14th, 1991
Year: 1991