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 through 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
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 through 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!
O.G. Original Gangster
Writer/s: TRACY MARROW
Publisher: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind
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