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Ten years ago I used to listen to rappers flow Talkin' bout the way They rocked the mic at the disco With my own sound I liked how that shit was goin' down 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 Facts. Motherfuckers got scared Cause they weas unprepaired Didn'T fantasize, kicked the pure who would tell it how it relly was? Who dared? A motherfucker from the West Coast L.A. South Central fool When I wrote about parties Where the Crips and the Bloods play It didn't fit That was the real shit Six in the Mornin' [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 Cause anybody who's been there Drop ya on death row 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 I'd be a true sucker But the science is always there If I acted like I didn'T care I rap for brothers just like myself But I kick it to you hard and real Dazed by the game One wrong move, and you caps peeled In a quest for extreme wealth 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 This ain't no fuckin' joke No imagination needed, cause I lived it 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'! Try to roll on me, please! Dumb motherfucker 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 But they just didn'T figure They try to sweat a nigga 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 For when the copters pass Numbers on your roof top Gang bangers Don't carry no switch blades Every kid's got a Tec 9 or a Thirty-seven killed Hand grenade Last week in a crack war Hostges tied up Nobody gives a fuck And shot in a liquor store "The children have to go to school." Well, moms, good luck Cause the shit's fucked up bad I use my pad and pen I try to write about fun And my lyrics break out mad andthe goodtimes But the pen yanks away and explodes And destroys the rhyme Maybe it's just cause of where I'm from L.A. that was a shot gun! [CHORUS]
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