2. 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?
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
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!
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!
4. 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 fuck to do
Four blocks away my aim's clean
Night scope on a silence carbine
Place my crosshairs on my vic's eye
Squeeze the trigger
Watch the brains fly
Violent? Yeah you could call me that
Insane? You're on the right track
But turn the sounds up
So I can stay amped
Do another crew and breaak camp
The only way I sleep is in a cold sweat
You think I'm crazy?
You ain't see shit yet
Cause I love to kill and kill for fun
The microphone goes off
Like a handgun
It's goin' down now
Grab your girl hops
No excuses when the bodies
begin to drop
Look in my face fool
It look like I'm play'n
Don't become another
Victim of mic slayin'
What's up?
You want your feet in some concrete?
I got some brothers
That'll do you for gold teeth
But most the time I move, I move alone
Take a bat
Break your motherfuckin' dome
Shoot you dead in the face
With a sawed off
One hundred ten degrees
Ice don't get soft
Cause I'm hard as they come
I come correct
You can't handle the vandal hit eject
If not you better get
Out my face sucka
Or else you better be
A good bullet ducker
Cause I'm a rip shop
Tell that ass drop
Five o Ice, yo fuck a damn cop!
Cause I move hard and cold
With a gangster stroll
Five thousand dollar suits
And fly gold
Rolex, you can't fit no more
Diamonds on it
Pinky ring, worth a house
If I decide to pwn it
What's up now punk?
Yo start to choke up?
You try to move on the Ice
You'll get broke up!
Midnight, time for a homicide
Showtime, somebody's gonna die
E hits the switch
And thouands of volts connect
With the weapon that's in my fist
I see a sucka in the third row
Try'n to riff
A paragraph and a half he's stiff
I start bustin' off barrages ear high
Mothers grab for their children
Tears fly
I'm like a psycho
In the mircrophone zone
Speakers blown, mind gone
I can't be touched
Once my lyrics begin to fly
Simple stage radiation
Could make ya die
Ya got a prob nigga
you think your rep's bigger?
Hold your heard right there
While I squeeze the trigger
Cause I'm a crazy motherfucker
That's no joke
My favorite smell is
The aroma of gunsmoke
I'm bustin' off another
Lyrical nightmare
Parents hate the Ice!
You think that I care?
Well I don't give a fuck
Cause I rhyme tough
Drop science, still bust the ill stuff
So now it's time for crime
And the rhyme is mine
Track the movement
Hide from the punchline
I rhyme with quickness
Microphone fitness
The assassinator
Stay off the shit list
12. New Jack Hustler
Hustler, word, I pull the trigger long,
Grit my teeth, spray till every nigga's gone.
Got my block sewn, armored dope spots,
Last thing I sweat's a sucka punk cop.
Move like a king when I roll, hops,
You try to flex, bang, another nigga drops.
You gotta deal with this cause there's no way out,
Why? Cash money ain't never gonna play out.
I got nothin to lose, much to gain,
In my brain, I got a capitalist migraine.
I gotta get paid tonight, you muthafuckin right.
[something] my grip, check my bitch, keep my game tight.
So many hos on my jock, think I'm a movie star.
Nineteen, I got a fifty thousand dollar car.
Go to school, I ain't goin for it,
Kiss my ass, bust the cap on the Moet.
Cause I don't wanna hear that crap,
Why? I'd rather be a New Jack-----Hustler
Hustler
Hustler
Hustler
H-U-S-T-L-E-R hustler
(kid drop in)
Yo man you know what I'm sayin?
You got it goin on my man, I like how it's goin down.
You got the fly cars, the girls, the jewels.
Look at that ring right there,
I know it's real, it's gotta be real.
Man, you the flyest nigga I seen in my life!
Yo man, I just wanna roll with you man,
How can I be down?
What's up? You say you wanna be down?
Ease back, or muthafucka get beat down.
Out my face, fool I'm the illest,
Bulletproof, I die harder than Bruce Willis.
Got my crew in effect, I bought em new Jags,
So much cash, gotta keep it in Hefty bags.
All I think about is keys and Gs
Imagine that, me workin at Mickey D's (ha ha ha ha).
That's a joke cause I'm never gonna be broke,
When I die there'll be bullets and gunsmoke.
Ya don't like my lifestyle? Fuck you!
I'm rollin with the New Jack crew.
And I'm a hustler.
H-U-S-T-L-E-R hustler
New Jack, New Jack..........
Here I come, so you better break North,
As I stride, my gold chains glide back and forth.
I care nothing bout you, and that's evident.
All I love's my dope and dead presidents.
Sound crazy? Well it isn't.
The ends justifies the means, that's the system.
I learned that in school then I dropped out,
Hit the streets, checked a grip, and now I got clout.
I had nothing, and I wanted it.
You had everything, and you flaunted it.
Turned the needy into the greedy,
With cocaine, my success came speedy.
Got me twisted, jammed into a paradox.
Every dollar I get, another brother drops.
Maybe that's the plan, and I don't understand,
God damn----you got me sinkin in quicksand.
But since I don't know, and I ain't never learned,
I gotta get paid, I got money to earn.
With my posse, out on the ave,
Bump my sounds, crack a forty and laugh.
Cool out and watch my new Benz gleam,
Is this a nightmare? Or the American dream?
So think twice if you're coming down my block,
You wanna journey through hell? Well shit gets hot.
Pregnant teens, children's screams,
Life is weighed on the scales of a triple beam.
You don't come here much, and ya better not.
Wrong move (bang), ambulance cot.
I gotta get more money than you got,
So what, if some muthafucka gets shot?
That's how the game is played,
Another brother slayed, the wound is deep
BUT they're givin us a Band Aid.
My education's low but I got long dough,
Raised like a pit bull, my heart pumps nitro.
Sleep on silk, lie like a politician,
My Uzi's my best friend, cold as a mortician.
Lock me up, it's genocidal catastrophe,
There'll be another one after me!
A hustler.
Hustler.
H-U-S-T-L-E-R hustler.
New Jack, New Jack......
13. 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. Motherfuckers got scared
Cause they weas unprepaired
who would tell it how it relly was?
Who dared?
A motherfucker from the West Coast
L.A. South Central fool
Where the Crips and the Bloods play
When I wrote about parties
It didn't fit
Six in the Mornin'
That was the real shit
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 fuckin' joke
This shit is real to me
I'm Ice-T
O.G.
Two weeks ago I was out at the disco
Two brothers stepped up to me
And said
Hey yo, Ice
We don't think you're down
What set ya claimin'?
E drew the Glock, yo my set's aimin'!
Dumb motherfucker
Try to roll on me, please!
I'm protected by a thousand emcees
and hoodlums and hustlers
And bangers with Jeri curls
we won't even count the girls
Cause they got my back
And I got theirs too
Fight for the streets
When I'm on Oprah or Donahue
They try to sweat a nigga
But they just didn'T figure
What my wit's as quick as a hair trigger
He's not your everyday-type
Prankster.
I'm Ice-T, the original gangster
So step to me
If you think that you're ready to
Got on your bullet proof?
Well mine's goin' right thru
This ain't no game to me
It's hollow fame to me
Without respect frome streets
So I don't claim be
The hardest motherfucker on earth
Catch me slippin, I can even get worked
But I don'T slip that often
there's a coffin
Waitin' for the brother
Who comes off soft when
The real fuckin' shit goes down
Take a look around
all them pussies can be found
they talk a mean fight
But fight like hoes
I'm from South Central, fool
Where everything goes
Snatch you out your car so fast
You'll get whiplash
Numbers on your roof top
For when the copters pass
Gang bangers
Don't carry no switch blades
Every kid's got a Tec 9 or a
Hand grenade
Thirty-seven killed
Last week in a crack war
Hostges tied up
And shot in a liquor store
Nobody gives a fuck
The children have to go to school.
Well, moms, good luck
Cause the shit's fucked up bad
I use my pad and pen
And my lyrics break out mad
I try to write about fun
andthe goodtimes
But the pen yanks away and explodes
And destroys the rhyme
Maybe it's just cause of where I'm from
L.A. that was a shot gun!
15. 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 fuck about you
Or him or her
Whenever I'm in the house
A death just might occur
Is this real or fiction
You'll never know
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
A pool of blood
and floating body parts
Would make me grin
A close view of a razor
When it's breaking skin
If you were burnin'
I'd use gasoline to put you out
Cause I walk alone
And choose the dark route
Nightmares gotta be loved by some
And I'm the one
Ya wanna come, bring your shotgun
You ever see your partner die?
No? Well I have!
You ever see your father die?
No? Well I have!
You ever see your mother die?
No? Well I have!
So shut the fuck up, punk
And clear the rhyme path!
What would make meel calm and nice
Is a slow slice
Through your jugular and windpipe
Throw me in jail
I won't even try to make bail
Put me in the gas chamber
And watch me inhale!
Is this true or false?
Well you'll never know
Jason, Tales from the Crypt
And the Dark Side
Another fly murder, another suicide
Did these flicks
Have an influence on my brain?
I really doubt that shit
I think that I was born insane
When I was young
I had a lust for knives and guns
Use a magnifying glass
To fry an ant with the sun
And on and on
My lust for death got bigger
At fifteen
I was placed behind a trigger
Although I'm dirty
Not the one to be swept up
step up, I'd love to open your chest up
I've got no concept of life or death
All I want is your last breath
Give me a motherfuckin' break
I should behave
Give me a motherfuckin' shovel
I'll dig graves!
I break ill in extra large portions
where's your parents
I'll make you an orphan
So when you're talkin' crazy
You better think of me
The I, to the C, to the E, to the fuckin' T!
There'll be no tears
No screams or cries, just a laser beam
Between your fuckin' eyes
You feel strange well now you know
19. Ziplock
Once again I'm back in the place to be
The I, the C, the E, the T
I'll never get a Grammy, so fuck the G
All I need is crowd, and my M-I-C
Got a gangster ass DJ named Evil E
My record label's called Warner B
William Morris is my agency
I'll never go broke, I got property
Got a dope pitbull named Felony
Got four gold albums
So what you tell'n me?
Power was two, Iceberg was three
This one here shipped five hundred G
Now when I roll, I roll stupid deep
Benz's, Bemers, and boomin' Jeeps
I'm always strapped
Cause my money I keep
You move on the Ice
And you're goin' to sleep
But when you see me
Walkin' down the street
You say, What's up Ice?
And I say, Peace!
You give me a dap, I give you one back
Cause I ain't souped
So forget about that
We might take pictures
Sign n utograph
Kick a little flavor
Have some fun and laugh
But step to me wrong
You might get shot
And wind up lookin' out a ziplock!!!