Tonalidad: Db major
Intro 1
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Verse 1
I used to listen to rappers flow
Talkin' bout the way
They rocked the mic at the disco
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I liked how that shit
was goin' down
Dreamt about ripping the mic
with my own sound
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So I tried to write rhymes
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Somethin' like them, my boys said
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"That ain't you Ice
Verse 2
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That shit sounds like them."
So I sat back, thought up a new track
Didn'T fantasize, kicked the pure
Facts. Motherfuckers got scared
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Cause they weas unprepaired
Who would tell it how it relly was?
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A motherfucker from the West Coast
L.A. South Central fool
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Where the Crips and the Bloods play
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When I wrote about parties
Six in the Mornin'
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That was the real shit
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Verse 3
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Verse 4
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When I wrote about parties
Someone always died
When I tried to write happy
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Yo I knew I lied, I lived a life of crime
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Why play ya blind?
A simple look
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And anyone with two cents
Would know I'm
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A hardcore player fromhe streets
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Rappin' bout hardcore topics
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Over hardcore drum beats
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A little different
Than the average though
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Jet you thru the fast lane
Drop ya on death row
Cause anybody who's been there
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Knows that life ain't sho lovely
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On the blood- soaked fast track
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That invincible shit don't work
Throw ya in a joint
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You'll be comin' out feet first
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So I blst the mic with my style
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Sometimes I'm ill
The other times buck wild
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But the sci ence is always there
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I'd be a true sucker
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If I acted like I didn'T care
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I rap for brothers just like myself
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Dazed by the game
In a quest for extreme wealth
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But I kick it to you hard and real
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One wrong move, and you caps peeled
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I ain't no super hero
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I ain't no Mar vel Comic
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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
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This shit is real to me
Verse 5
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Gangster
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Verse 6
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Two weeks ago I was
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out at the disco
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Two brothers stepped up to me
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And said
"Hey yo, Ice
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We don't think you're down
What set ya claimin'?"
E drew the Glock, yo my set's aimin'!
Dumb motherfucker
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Try to roll on me, please!
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I'm protected by a thousand
emcees
And hoodlums and hustlers
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And bangers with Jeri curls
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We won't even count the girls
Cause they got my back
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And I got theirs too
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Fight for the streets
When I'm on Oprah or Donahue
They try to sweat a nigga
But they just didn'T figure
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What my wit's as quick as
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a hair trigger
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"He's not your everyday- type
Prankster."
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I'm Ice- T, the original
Verse 7
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gangster
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Verse 8
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If you think that you're ready to
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Got on your bullet proof?
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Well mine's goin' right thru
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This ain't no game to me
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It's hollow fame to me
Without respect frome streets
So I don't claim be
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The hardest motherfucker on earth
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Catch me slippin,
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I can even get worked
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But I don'T slip that often
There's a coffin
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Waitin' for the brother
Who comes off soft when
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The real fuckin' shit goes down
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Take a look around
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All them pussies can be found
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They talk a mean fight
But fight like hoes
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I'm from South Central, fool
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Where everything goes
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Snatch you out your car so fast
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You'll get whiplash
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Numbers on your roof top
For when the copters pass
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Gang bangers
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Don't carry no switch blades
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Every kid's got a Tec 9 or a
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Thirty- seven killed
Last week in a crack war
Verse 9
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Hostges tied up And shot in a liquor store
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Nobody gives a fuck
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"The children have to go to school."
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Well, moms, good luck
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Cause the shit's fucked up bad
I use my pad and pen
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And my lyrics break out mad
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I try to write about fun
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Andthe goodtimes
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But the pen yanks away and explodes
And destroys the rhyme
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Maybe it's just cause
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of where I'm from
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L.A. that was a shot gun!
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Verse 10
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