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Ice-T - The Iceberg/Freedom of Speech... Just Watch What You Say! Album Lyrics



Ice-T - The Iceberg/Freedom of Speech... Just Watch What You Say! Lyrics






Shut Up Be Happy

We interrupt this program with a special bulletin:
America is now under marshall law.
All constitutional rights have been suspended.
Stay in your homes.
Do not attempt to contact love ones, insurance agent or attorney.
Shut up.
Do not attempt to think or depression may accure.
Stay in your homes.
Curfew is at 7 PM sharp after work.
Anyone gaught outside of gates of their suveillance sectors after curfew will be shot.
Remain calm, do not panic.
Your neighborhood watchofficer will be by to collect urine examples in the morning.
Anyone gaught intefering with the collection of urine examples will be shot.
Stay in your homes, remain calm.
The number one enemy of progress is question.
National security is more important than individual will.
All port broadcasts will proceed as normal.
No more than two people may gather anywhere without promission.
Use only the drugs described by your boss or supervisor.
Shut up, be happy.
Obey all orders without question.
The comformental mandor is now mandatory.
Be happy.
At last everything is done for you.
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: JELLO BIAFRA, CHARLES ANDRE GLENN, TRACY MARROW
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING




The Iceberg

[Verse 1]

I-C-E B-E-R-G
What's that spell? Iceberg, nigga, can't you read?
Time to bleed, slaughter, slice
Try to say I wasn't nice as we waxed them punks like lab mice
Dice 'em up, slice 'em up, dissect
Put you in a boilin' pot and let your ass sweat
Cos I rap on game you think I'm weak in a freestyle?
Well 911 you should dial
Before my posse makes a move on your mom's crib
Think we got knives and guns? We got bombs, kid
Blow up your whole block, ya hear the gunshots
Throw you in the Syndicate cellar and let your body rot
Cos I'm the coldest motherf*cker that you ever heard
Call me The Ice...or just The Iceberg

[Verse 2]

Evil E was out coolin' with a freak one night
F*cked the bitch with a flashlight
Pulled it out and left the batteries in
So he could get a charge when he begin
Used his dick, the shit was tight
Bitch's titties start blinkin' like tail lights
Rolled her over to change a connection
The bitch's ugly face cold spoiled his erection
I'm the Ice rhymer, a big timer
And yes I'm a pimp and a player and a hustler and kinda
A mack and a poet, impressive I know it
Don't only rhyme for niggas cos I live my life co-ed
On the mic it's livin' breathin' hype
A 1989 type Dolemite
Cool motherf*cker, word
Call me The Ice...or just The Iceberg

[Verse 3]

Charlie Jamm f*cked a freak on a ski-lift
10 below, gave her the dick
It was cold and she said "Quit!"
Charlie Jamm said "Bullshit!"
She said "Oh, oh, oh my god!"
Charlie's dick was frozen hard
But she said she never felt it
Maybe Charlie's dick melted
Yes, I'm the rhyme kicker, the hard liquor
Parental Guidance Sticker? Yeah, I'm the nigga
Triple X is how I rate
I'm the one your parents hate
I'm as cold as cold can get
Under pressure never sweat
Cool motherf*cker, word
Call me The Ice...or just The Iceberg

[Verse 4]

Out with the posse on a night run
Girls on the corner, so let's have some fun
Donald asked one if she was game
Back Alley Sally was her name
She moved on the car and moved fast
On the window pressed her ass
All at once we heard a crash
Donald's dick had broke the glass
Yes, I'm the big wheeler, the girl stealer
And if we play cards don't let me be the dealer
The Ice, cool as water, hard as stone
The black mack of the microphone
Talkin' shit the way I do
Rhyme Pays, the posse grew
Did you like Power? Word
Well this is The Ice...or just The Iceberg
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Tyler Boehm
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING




Lethal Weapon

E-V-I-L E and Ice-T are on a jack move
Layin down the dope groove, smokin those who disapprove
Wreckin the deck, you'll regret if you cross punk
Rollin like a Mack truck, waxin those who talk junk
Violent your end, I got your face in my crosshairs
Wanna see your dome bust sucker cause I don't care
Nuttin bout you, your crew, because you talk shit
I'm the Lethal Weapon boy, ridin the apocalypse
If you're in my way, then lay beneath the ground soon
Violence is my business fool, the microphone of doom
Mission that's to cure all punks as I bust caps
Peelin your back, my ammunition hollow-point raps
You try to run, that makes it even more fun
I just cold lamp and vamp you with the shotgun
Cops try to flex.. but guns they'll never find..
My Lethal Weapon's my mind!

A lethal weapon..
A lethal weapon..
A lethal weapon..
An assassinator, if the people ain't steppin

A lethal weapon..
A lethal weapon..
A lethal weapon..
An assassinator

You hit the deck, as rap busts from my lips
You think I'm finished - I load another clip
Look in my face, I crack an evil grin
Lyrics bring death from the microphone Mac-10
Sucker MC's, you ain't down with the Syndicate
Try to kick game, but end up talkin weak shit, yo
You're weak, you're wack, you need to quit you lil punk bitch
Go and freak your mother, go dig a damn ditch
Get out my face, I'm tired of the press too
You write about me, I write about you
You think I'm violent, but listen and you will find..
My Lethal Weapon's my mind!

A lethal weapon..
A lethal weapon..
A lethal weapon..
An assassinator, if the people ain't steppin

A lethal weapon..
A lethal weapon..
A lethal weapon..
An assassinator

Up against the wall - it's Valentine's Day
The Massacre's about due for a replay
I'm about to explode - like a hand grenade
Evil E do damage on the crossfade
Cuts like a battleaxe
You try to bite, get iced, my raps are boobytraps
Claim of mine, designed by the Ice himself
You beg for mercy as you read the hand you're dealt
Ah ahh ahh AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
Cause there's no let up, you walked into a set up
It's suckin you down and now you can't get up
Why because you froze the moment we met up
And I never run punk, I go head up
I ain't no fool and new jack poppin fake rap
I rap from the heart and soul, where only facts are kept
Many rappers sell-out pop and other MC's slept
I ain't in no playin mood, so nigga watch your step
Cause if you cross the boss, you go to bed quick
Know my situation boy, don't diss the Syndicate
cause when we chose to move, you're gone
and no remains they'll find..
My Lethal Weapon's my mind!

A lethal weapon..
A lethal weapon..
A lethal weapon..
An assassinator, if the people ain't steppin

A lethal weapon..
A lethal weapon..
A lethal weapon..
An assassinator

More bodies than John Gotti, the Lethal Weapon is slaying
Just open any book, that's ammo to the brain
What really matters, is how well is your weapon trained
Some would say genius, while others would say insane
The Weapon power has been witnessed upon my page
From Martin Luther's "dream", to Hitler's psycho rage
What's more powerful - the brain or a twelve gauge?
The words I speak have scared many people to this stage
But promote violence, I really have to disagree
It's entertainment, like "Terminator" on TV
But some'll never see, you're stupid ignorant and blind
The Lethal Weapon's the mind!

A lethal weapon..
A lethal weapon..
A lethal weapon..
An assassinator, if the people ain't steppin

A lethal weapon..
A lethal weapon..
A lethal weapon..
An assassinator

The mind..
Think!

The mind..
YouknowhatI'msayin?
I got my jammy with me at all times, youknowhatI'msayin?
They can't take this one thing away from me
that's got more power, than any gun in the world, youknowhatI'msayin?
I'm talkin bout brain power homeboy
They can't mess with me cause I'm too smart for them out there
youknowhatI'msayin? Fully strapped, always packed
Go to the library and get some more ammo, youknowhatI'msayin?
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CHARLES ANDRE GLENN, ICE T
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING




You Played Yourself

This is it, dope from the fly kid
The Ice mic is back with the high bid
Suckers you've lost cos players you're not, gangstas you ain't
You're faintin', punk, if you ever heard a gunshot
Yo, the pusher, the player, the pimp gangsta, the hustler
High Roller, dead pres folder
Is cold lampin' like a black king on a throne
Evil E...turn up the microphone
So I can ill and break on the rollin' tape
Another album to make? Great
Islam turn the bass kick up a bit
Hype the snare, now I got a place to sit
And ride the track like a black mack in his 'lac
Hit the corner slow where the girls are at
And kick game the way it should be done
How you gonna drop science? You're dumb
Stupid ignorant, don't even talk to me
At school you dropped Math, Science and History
And then you get on the mic and try to act smart
Well let me tell you one thing, you got heart
To perpetrate, you're bait, so just wait
Till the press shove a mic in your face
Or you meet Boogie Down or Chuck D
Stetsasonic or the Big Daddy
And they ask you about the game you claim you got
Drop science now, why not?
You start to sweat and fret, it gets hot
How'd you get into this spot?

You played yourself...
Yo, yo, you played yourself...

I'm no authority but I know the D-E-A-L
When it comes to dealin' with the females
What you got they want, cash is what they need
Slip sucker and they'll break you with speed
But you meet a freak, you try to turn her out
Spendin' money's what I'm talkin' about
But you fool out, your pockets got blew out
And after the date, no boots, you got threw out
Mad and shook cos your duckets got took
Call her up, phone's off the hook
But who told you to front and flaunt your grip?
You can't buy no relationship

You played yourself...
Yo, homeboy, you played yourself...

I'm in the MC game, a lot of MC's front
And for the money they're sell out stunts
But they claim that they're rich and that they keep cash
Yo, let me straighten this out fast
Two hundred thousand records sold
And these brothers start yellin' 'bout gold?
You better double that, then double that again
And still don't get sooped, my friend
You think you've made it, you're just a lucky man
Guess who controls your destiny, fans
But you diss 'em cos you think you're a star
That attitude is rude, you won't get far
Cos they'll turn on you quick, you'll drop like a brick
Unemployment's where you'll sit
No friends cos you dissed 'em too
No money, no crew, you're through

You played yourself...
That's right, you played yourself...
You played yourself...
Yo, yo, you played yourself...

You got problems, you claim you need a break
But every dollar you get you take
Straight to the Dopeman, try to get a beam up
Your idle time is spent tryna scheme up
Another way to get money for a jumbo
When you go to sleep you count Five-O's
Lyin' and cheatin', everybody you're beatin'
Dirty clothes and you're skinny cos you haven't been eatin'
You ripped off all your family and your friends
Nowhere does your larceny end
And then you get an idea for a big move
An armed robbery...smooth
But everything went wrong, somebody got shot
You couldn't get away, the cops roll, you're popped
And now you're locked, yo, lampin' on Death Row
Society's fault? No
Nobody put the crack into the pipe
Nobody made you smoke off your life
You thought that you could do dope and still stay cool? Fool.

You played yourself...
You played yourself...
Ain't nobody else's fault, you played yourself
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: TRACY LAUREN MARROW, CHARLES BOBBIT, JAMES BROWN, FRED WESLEY
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING




Peel Their Caps Back

[Ice-T]
Coolin in my crib, cold video dubbin
FBI wanted? Huh, don't mean nuttin
They call that shit a crime? Yo that shit's a joke
Hit record on my dope remote
I heard my phone ringin, I wonder who could it be
It was the E, the V, yes the I-L E
He said, "We got static - word, I just got out
Punks tried to move at the club and we shot out
Bullets everywhere," Okay what's the prob?
"Ink got popped, he's dead as a doorknob."
You bullshittin! "I ain't f*ckin around.
The posse's rollin tonight, nigga are you down?"
I grabbed my AK, my 16, and my baby Mac
Strapped on my vest, and threw the 9 in the small of my back
I said - Chill, don't let nobody move without me
Say you know where they are?
He said, "I know where they be"
Let's peel their caps back
Let's peel their caps back

Twelve o'clock midnight, posse was airtight
Twenty-five cars, under the streetlights
Some people talked, while others cried
Ink was a brother, who shouldn't have died
Then the silence broke, Ice what's it gonna be?
38 hard brothers stood and stared at me
There were only two words that I had to say
P-A-Y, B-A-C-K
The car's loaded with a silence that could rape the dead
Pistols clipped as the chamber's loaded full of lead
Everyone in the crew knew what I said
would mean by morning, somebody else soon would be dead
Let's peel their caps back

The cars at the corner like a long black snake
Nightprowlin for a life to take
Ya see down in the ghetto it's an eye for an eye
That's the answer to the question why
In my throat, there's a lump, then I swallow it, I ain't no chump
Face of Death, then I cocked my pump
I'm a nigga on the trigger, madder than a pitbull
Just layin for a reason to pull
on you, any duck motherf*cker that gets in my way
I'm insane, and my homeboy's death made me this way
But then we spot him, Evil E shot him
Dead in the face, made sure that he got him
Others ran, but no mercy to the posse's wrath
Automatic Uzi motherf*ckin bloodbath
Let's peel their caps back
Let's peel their caps back
Let's peel their caps back

Then all of a sudden, a bullet came through my eye
My dome exploded and I felt my other brothers die
I drink my blood as I fell like shit into the street
My corpse stunk like a burnt out rotten piece of meat
Ten brothers died in this stupid homicidal binge
Cause whenever someone dies, nobody wins
But this drama, you'll never hear a word of
cause all the paper's gonna read is a gang murder
Gang murder
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: AFRIKA ISLAM, TRACY LAUREN MARROW
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING




The Girl Tried to Kill Me

[Verse One:]

Yo! I met this girl the other night
Hype super-dope body and face, her mini-skirt tight
Talkin' 'bout legs and lips, mindblowin' hips
Had to cross my legs just to look at her tits
Said she came out lookin' for some fun
Looked me in my eyes and told me...I was the one
I said "Why?", she said I was fly
Grabbed me by my hand and I thought I would die
Said she wanted to take me home to make love
Now that's the kind of rap that brothers dream of
I said, "Fast, slow, hard or soft, baby?"
She said, "All the above"

This girl tried to kill me, she didn't use a gun or a knife
This girl tried to kill me, took me within a inch of my life

[Verse Two:]

Now, I ain't no sucker on the weak tip
But let me tell you, she was on some motherf*ckin' sex trip
Took me to her crib that night, leather and spikes
Broke out the rope and the dope strobe-light
And started buggin', lightin' candles all over the room
Then she did a backflip, landed on my dick
I knew that I would be dead soon

This girl tried to kill me, she didn't use a gun or a knife
This girl tried to kill me, took me within a inch of my life
This girl tried to kill me, she didn't use a bomb or a gun
This girl tried to kill me, homeboys, watch out for this one

[Verse Three:]

Yo, my pants were on, but so what?
She ripped off my shirt and tied my monkey-ass up
Faster than I could say "No!"
It was like a rodeo, I was with a sex nut
I looked in her face...
She sweated and she grinned with delight
And then she broke out a whip, I said "Shit!"
This girl had crazy plans for the night

This girl tried to kill me, she didn't use a bomb or a gun
This girl tried to kill me, homeboys, watch out for this one
This girl tried to kill me, she didn't use a gun or a knife
This girl tried to kill me, took me within a inch of my life

[Verse Four:]

Now whips ain't all that she had
All kinda crazy shit was at this bitch's pad
I'm talkin' about latex suits, spike-heeled boots
Oversized vibrators so that she could get loose
I said, "Don't...don't...don't whip me!
I'll do anything you ask!"
And then homegirl stripped, 38" tits
Man you shoulda seen that ass

This girl tried to kill me, she didn't use a gun or a knife
This girl tried to kill me, took me within a inch of my life
This freak tried to kill me, she didn't use a bomb or a gun
This girl tried to kill me, homeboys, watch out for this one

[Verse Five:]

My dick was harder than a bulletproof vest
She started pourin' baby oil on her chest
And then she said, "Gimme gimme gimme"
Jumped on my Jimmy, and rode me like the Wild West
I almost passed out, then the front door cold bust in
It was her f*ckin' husband, six-foot ten
I knew my life would soon end

Homeboy tried to kill me, he didn't use a bomb or a gun
Homeboy tried to kill me, yo...yo, nowhere to run
Homeboy tried to kill me, he didn't use a gun or a knife
Homeboy tried to kill me, cos he had caught me f*ckin' his wife
Yo...
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CHARLES ANDRE GLENN, ICE T
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING




Black 'n' Decker

Yo, yo, yo, what's up, Nat the Cat?
(What's up?)
You know what i'm sayin', Donald D in the house
Homeboy Randy "King Quality" Mac in the motherf*ckin' house
(You know what time it is)

Yo, yo, yo, trip off this homeboys, you know what i'm sayin', this motherf*ckin' article right here says "Ice-T is violent", they trying to say i'm violent
(What kind of shit is that, Ice, man?)
Motherf*ckers are tryin' to say that Rhyme Syndicate ain't about nothing but blood and violence...
(Ah, man, I ain't violent, man)
(Kill that noise)
(Suckers)

You know what i'm sayin', But trip off this, man, have you ever wondered what it'd sound like if a motherf*cker took a drill, half-inch, and drilled right into the top of a motherf*cker's head?
(Oh man, you'd need some Black & Decker [?], man)
(The cordless kind)
I wonder what that shit would sound like

Probably sound like that
(Shit, man)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher




Hit the Deck

I'm the minstrel man, the cleaning man
The pole man, the shoeshine man
I'm a nigger man, watch me dance

I put the lyrics on the paper with the pen
Evil E makes the records spin
Islam drops the beats that you rock to
Thought that I would never get you? Got you
Doggin the floor like you know you never done before
How could a brother be so hardcore
And still keep you on the floor like a maniac
That's your question? Well I'ma answer that
I'm on the mic tonight I'm here to do it right
Ice, the capital T, airtight
Coolest of the cool, a mack on a mission
Step to me fool - you're missin
Minus, gone, pow, you're outta here
This ain't no game to me, this is my career
Throw me a mic, plug it in, "Bet!"
I won't be happy til the dancefloor's wet
I ain't no rookie, I'm a microphone vet
Evil E's on the set, hit the deck!

Be easy on the cut
Be easy on the cut
Be easy on the cut
No mistakes allowed

E-M-C-E-E, I-C-E-T, A-N-D, DJ Evil E
Doggin the deck like it's never been done before
You had enough? "MORE!"
Here we go, I'm about to blow up
Don't you dare bite my rhymes, I'll make you throw up
Poison soaked in an acid bath
Swallow homeboy, your throat'll need a skin graft
Toss it up, while the DJ known as Evil cuts
You wanna know what's happenin - "WHAT?"
The beat become my soul, I'm goin out of control
Look in my face as my eyeballs roll
Back in my head and the mic glows red
Step in my face and you'll wind up dead
Yo, thanks, I needed that
I was posessed by this treacherous track
Watch out "WORD" this ain't no joke
A sucker tried to flex and his arm got broke
Don't make a move that you'll regret
Evil E's on the set, hit the deck!

Kick it
Kick it
Kick it
Kick it

You start to think and wonder bout how it's done
"An emcee? Maybe I could be one"
Drop the thought, get a job, change your mind
To be a dope MC takes time
Eight years of mine, no time for draggin
You wanna be an MC? "Get off the bandwagon!"
But if it's in your heart, get a pen
Don't stop writin til the inkflow ends
Work and work and don't halfstep
Dog the mic every chance you get
Motivation must be kept
Stay down and build your rep
Yo so let me demonstrate, rappin as a fine art
And when I'm finished, you can take this rap apart
Analyze my elements and tactics
First I'm over there, and then I'm back to this
I jumble topics, you won't know where I'll go
Back in your face with a cold but steady flow
You feel the power of the Ice in the first row
You already know what to say, "HOOOOOOOOO!!!"
On the mic is a stone cold vet
Evil E's on the set, hit the deck

I'm in my mode, called the fourth episode
Or the last verse, if you wanna decode
So I gotta raise the heat, hype up the beat
Switch the mic from airtight to elite
Pounce upon the deck, it ain't wet yet
Let me see how hot you can get
Then I'll turn up the amps, blow out the lights
You're in darkness, then the mic ignites
Glowin like it did before, but even more
The room is lit, the raps are hardcore
Evil cuts the records like a psycho with a switchblade
You see a blur -- that's the crossfade
Loud and proud, words bombard the crowd
Look up in the air -- you see a mushroom cloud
I kick flavor to a musical track
Too fast to catch, too complex to match
I'm gettin hyped as hype can get
Evil E's on the set! Hit the deck
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CHARLES ANDRE GLENN, ICE T
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




This Ones For Me

Yo yo whassup Ice man you look upset brother
Yo man, I got a lot of things on my mind man
But I don't know if I should put it on this record, yaknahmsayin?
Man go ahead and kick it man
Let the people know what's happenin man
You know brothers out there sellin out man
Why they goin out like that man?
Yo, sellin out like it ain't nothin man
I ain't with it

[Ice-T]
Dig it, I'm just a brother from L.A.
South Central, I live life the fly way
Used to bang and hustle but I traded for the big game
Infamy got dumped for fame
Now I'm known and respect as creator of the crime rhyme;
But my lyrics are deeper
Because I'm the one that makes you think before make a move
I wrote "Pusher", "High Rollers", and "Colors" just to prove
That I could kick game, and drop knowledge at the same time
But one L.A. station wouldn't play my records one time
I'm tryin to save my community
But these bourgeoise blacks keep on doggin me
They don't care about violence, drugs and gangs
KJLH, you ain't about nuttin
You just a bunch of punk bourgeoise black suckers
And this one's for me

You won't play no Public Enemy
You ain't playin no Boogie Down Productions
You ain't tryin to represent the black community
You just carin about your little ol' R&B +BULL+
You play all day and night
I represent Los Angeles all over the United States
And you ain't did NUTTIN for me
Think about it

Hold up, I ain't finished on the diss tip
There's a few more punks that I got to rip
All you chump MC's who sell out quick
When P.E. was on the top, you rode the tip
But now they got problems and you suckers run
Who's Chuck's real friends, does he really have one?
You yell P.E. this, P.E. that
Fist in the air, proud to be black
Now they got static and you run like punks
I haven't heard an MC stand up for him once
Maybe you suckers are just hopin that they fall off
So you can fill their shoes, nope sorry boss
That's what the matter with black people anyway
We ain't down with nothin, I don't care what you say
Yell or lie, don't even bother
How low will a brother go for a dollar?
Public Enemy broke a new rap age
And now you rappers ain't got nuttin to say?
"Yo it's their problem" "Griff shouldn'ta said it"
E where's my pistol? (Yo I'll go get it)
Cause it's time for me to enforce some discipline
Are you down or not, are you out or in?
Chuck Flav and Griff are my true friends
I got their backs if it means my career ends

All you so-called down MC's with Public Enemy
I ain't heard nobody out there, tryin to help my man out
YouknowhatI'msayin? Griff is my man, I don't care WHAT he said
YouknowhatI'msayin? And I ain't gon' let them go out like that
YouknowhatI'msayin? Chuck, Ice got your back
Anybody out there got problems with Public Enemy, come talk to me

Once again, I'm back in the diss mode
I gotta speak my mind, it's time to unload
On this so-called government we've got
If I lied like them, I think I'd get shot
They sell drugs to kids and say it's us
And when the cops are crooks, who can you trust?
You only see young brothers in a drug bust
Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust
My homey got a year for an ounce of weed
While Bush sells weapons to the enemy
You gotta be stone blind not to see
"Our government is honest!" Nigga, please
Cocaine can't be made in the United States
Kickin facts like this our government hates
The young kids on the streets ain't the enemy
They're just ghetto youth after money
They sell drugs, but who sells drugs to them?
Try the C.I.A. my friend
Or the F.B.I. or even Bush
Somebody's gettin rich, damn sure ain't us
We're just killin ourselves while others laugh
Look at the street, it's a cocaine bloodbath
We gotta realize dope is pure death
Mess with drugs, you're breathin your last breath
Sellin drugs is straight up genocide
They're gonna laugh, while we all die

Sittin up there thinkin you're makin that money
Hustlin and all that, you're killin your brothers
YouknowhatI'msayin? You just stupid, straight up stupid
Puttin dope into your body - c'mon, youknowhatI'msayin?
You gotta get somethin goin out there
Get some brains, youknowhatI'msayin?
We are just playin ourselves cold out of the pocket

This one's for me, I make records for you
But this cut I straight out had to do
There's topics in my mind I have to break
Cause so many of you out there are so damn fake
If ya ain't know they're no-one, cutthroats
Backstabbers, scheamin for banknotes
And all of you out there know what I'm talkin bout
If you claim you're down then NEVER sell-out
Never sell out, youknowhatI'msayin?
You gotta stay down for yours
You know I want it, sure as I'm Ice-T
I make records for you, but this one's for me

You know what I'm talkin bout out there
There's ways to sell out left and right
But you ain't got to do that
There's things more important than money
I'm talkin bout pride, I'm talkin bout dignity
You got it out there
All you got to do is stand on your own two feet
Don't go out like no sucker
Stay down, youknowhatI'msayin?
Peace
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CHARLES ANDRE GLENN, ICE T
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING




The Hunted Child

[Verse 1]

(Today in Los Angeles another youth loses his life. Gunshot wound to
the head. Street violence is at an all-time high)

No jokin', I'm sleepin' with my eyes open
Wanted for a homicide ride, the gun's still smokin'
Didn't know what I was doin' but did it anyway
Now the posse's on my trail, they say I'm gonna pay (Run!)
I had a gun, it's mine and I packed it
Out with my crew, the boys caught some static
Me and this sucker punk went at it
Bang! Nine automatic

Hunted Child
I'm the Hunted Child

[Verse 2]

(Sources say the assailant was 17-years old and lives in South-Central
Los Angeles)

Now I'm on a hideout tip cos they're after me
LAPD says they're gonna capture me
Was I crazy? I guess I had to be
Cos once you kill it's instant catastrophe
Your whole life is over (Through!)
Forget about your girl your (Crew!)
Nowhere to run, so what you gonna do?
Be glad it's me, homeboy, and not you

The Hunted Child
I'm the Hunted Child
Hunted Child
I'm the Hunted Child

[Verse 3]

I'm only 17, I didn't mean to kill, man
But I was slangin' and bangin' for the thrill, man
When they said (Kill!) I felt chill, man
But once I pulled the trigger, boy, then things got ill, man
My homeboys dipped out the back fast
Left me alone in the echo of the gun blast
Everybody saw my face, I didn't wear a mask
You wanna know my name? Just ask

The Hunted Child
I'm the Hunted Child
Hunted Child
I'm the Hunted Child

(The science of Capitalism which you teach to the youth on the streets
today with the 'ends justifying the means' mentality ain't happenin')

[Verse 4]

I'm sweatin' heavy cos my face is on TV
Everybody in this whole world's after me
Since I was young I never had a damned thing
At Christmas time I'd hate to hear the bells ring
Cos in the ghetto Santa ain't got a dime
Your mother's standin' in the welfare line
The way the youth survive is crime
My life is over so I might as well speak my mind
I killed a brother cos this system had me geared to kill
Cos what I call home you call hell
My ghetto quarters ain't no better than a jail cell
But there's a message in this story that I'm tryna tell
We're just brothers on the streets killin' brothers
This system has us geared to kill one another
Sellin' dope to poison each other
The plan of The Man, word to the mother
But I'm a sucker cos I fell into their plan
187, I killed a brother man
My life on Earth was hell, you understand?
But when I die I'm goin' to hell again

I'm the Hunted Child I'm the Hunted Child I'm the Hunted Child The
Hunted Child

I'm the Hunted Child

I'm the Hunted Child
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CHARLES ANDRE GLENN, TRACY MARROW
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING




What Ya Wanna Do?

Party!
(Okay party people in the house)

Yo yo, in the place to be
My name is MC Ice-T
I got the Rhyme Syndicate with me
We about to tear stuff up, y'all feel good?
Yo, what the hell y'all wanna do, Syndicate, tonight, what you wanna do?
(Party!)
Randy Mac in the place to be, what you wanna do? (Party!)
Nat The Cat, you're in the house tonight, what you wanna do? (Party!)
Donald-D is in the place to be, what you wanna do? (Party!)
Bronx Style Bob is in the house, what you wanna do? (Party!)
Hen-Gee is in the house, what you wanna do, homeboy? (Party!)
My man Shaquel is in the place to be, what you wanna do? (Party!)
Yo, Toddy Tee is in the house tonight, what you wanna do? (Party!)
Yo, Everlast is in the house, come on, what you wanna do? (Party!)
And MC Taste is in the place to be, what you wanna do? (Party!)
My man Divine is in the house, what you wanna do, homeboy? (Party!)
Yo yo, I'm about to kick this party up, is that alright?

Yo, Yo, MC Ice on a Syndicate Rhyme spree
You say you wanna be down, you gotta talk to me
You wanna get in? Put a sucker's head out
Sound a little hot for you, boy? Then, toy, get out
Syndicate mob ain't nothin but hardened crooks
You try to diss, your butt is on a meat hook
Want some of me? You're on a mission
Bad move, you end up missin

Let's get it straight for the '89 tip
Randy Mac is clockin a stupid grip
On the party track I'm cold lampin
But when the Syndicate rolls I be jackin
You thought I fell off, I ain't even slipped
The Mac is cuttin records and punks are gettin ripped
Gangster I am, bust the lyrics like a drive-by
You wanna sleep? Well, it's lights out, beddy-bye

Notorious Asiatic, tough, talented
A power entertainer
Catapultin above the top
Nat The Cat, too swift to be stopped
I'm like Jordan, a team player on a solo flight
Lookin down on MC's faces full of fright and fear
I slam dunk a rap through their ear to hear
Heureka! I just struck a platinum fame
In the game things'll never be the same
Because money changes everything

Once again comin at you hyper
Donald D the Syndicate Sniper
Boston Strangler, Charles Manson
No matter what killer I mention, keep dancin
Five Fingers Of Death, Fists Of Fury
St. Valentine's Day Massacre on a jury
Wanna convict me for kickin black on wax
I walk the street with a battle axe

Life ain't nothin but a piece of existence
Cause when you die, you'se a past tense
So I like to live my life like a big carnival
Get drunk, act like an animal
I like the rock'n rolll, the funk, the jazz and hip-hop
Suckers get loud, I drop em
I like
I'm Bronx Bob, bring the beats and I'm

Black stallion, knockin on concrete walls
Standin tall, rappers in my face, they stall
Stutter, softer than melted butter
There's no other word, go ask your mother
Hard solid as your city
Born in Brooklyn, can tell by the way that I walk and talk
Strollin with a slight limp
Flyer than any big city pimp

Gold, girls, cold cash
On the mic Shaquel Shabazz
Supreme, the Lord, the G-o-d
Down with the Syndicate posse
It's you we rule without a tool
Mathematics in effect, it's time to school
I'm the principal and knowledge is the key
Shaquel in the place to be

I climb a mountain top with just one rope
Get to the top of the stairs and say a rhyme that's dope
Cause I'm a cliffhanger, no, I ain't a stranger
Yo, I'm Toddy Tee, and I'm a Compton banger
Wanted by the F.B.I. for transport of
Sucker MC's across the Syndicate borders
No, they can't give me no time, cause it's my rhyme
Everlast, get funky for me one time

Everlast is in effect gettin big respect
Then I collect big checks
1's, 5's, 10's and 20's
A 100 g's and I'm pullin honeys
Left and right, day and night
You gotta see it to believe it, it's quite a sight
They're all on the tip to get a sip
Of this poetic performer that's fully equipped

Y'all played yourselves right in front of the mic
Moved your body so that the feelin was right
But if you get lost scream out and admit
That the beat's too fast, slow it down or I quit
I'm not the kind to give you a call
To stop on a rap that I lead, so I pause
I give you 5, 4, 3, 2, 1
If that ain't enough, sit down till we're done

Syndicate scorned, you act obedient
Tired of your fish rhyme ingredients
Black on black while styles
Of brothers that's gotta be
Circlin cyphers into molecules
Takin over your space, that's illogical
The vocal chords on a board with 24 tracks
Get away from the break gotta rap

Syndicate posse growin, goin out of control
You say we're weak? This record's shippin gold
Power, strength, my posse got unity
We stick together and we're soon to be
In your town, we gonna bring the roof down
Ice-T and the syndicate underground
No selll-outs, cause it's caps we peelin
Girls we love em, and shows we steal em

Knowledge and wisdom, it's a mystery
I drop science for the ones who know it's me
You say I'm dope, cool, it makes sense
I ain't conceited, I'm just convinced
Strapped for the attack Randy Mac is rollin
The mic, the mixer, then the show is stolen
The pimp, the player, hustler kicker
Watch your girl, cause I stick her

Nat The Cat, my man will rap when I'm playin the back
Some think my stage presence is low, I think it's loud
Enough to see me flowin and showin
Go psycho breakin backs like bolo
Give me the mic, a metamorphis ignite
I break down on a cat stand, I kill ya like a hitman
And come out kickin with the
Rockin on a rappin rampage
In control of the stage

There's a mouse in my house, so I bought a cat
The cat ran away, cause now there's a rat
I'm on the attack with my baseball bat
That one rap brought many of us back
All through my house I set up traps
It seem like the rats have a map
But nowadays I don't know how to act
So now I feed the rats crack

Back and I'm statin the fact
I know you're waitin for a rap
To make you get up and start to clap
For Bob, a Bronx Syndicate style
More bounce to the ounce and trizzy to the file
'79 the time I was inclined
To get smooth and prove that I can rock a funk rhyme
Hey yo, ice-cube chillin
Cause we got the gats and knack to see the kids top billin

Impressionalist, not a ventriloquist
Don't hang out with suckers worth less than piss
Suckers can all come kiss the tip
Of my knob when I aim I don't miss
Aim it to suckers that come around jockin
On my tip when on the radio my recors be rockin
Don't come frontin askin me for a pound
You ain't invited means you simply ain't down

Wake up it's time to be noticed
I'ma do this, I'm gonna show this
Beat to be mathematical
Syndicate's in the house, let's get radical
Bum rush the show and grab the mic
Syndicate's chilllin out tonight
They let me loose and now it's war
let the rhymes roar

Grab a partner and hit the dancefloor
Cause I'm back to rock for you once more
I don't worry about what he said or she said
As long as what's said-said is done-done in my bed
The Juvenile Committee's on my side
And I'm kickin knowledge on a natural high
And I'm feeling strong
Yo, take this mic and get the party on

This is mortal combat, there ain't no comeback
You're tryin to get with me but you don't know where I'm at
Cause in this world there's no bombs or guns
Just a microphone, metaphors, words and puns
Sentences and phrases, no clubs or razors
No mercy for a sucker that wages
War, I'll take the floor, even the score
Grab the microphone and proceed to roar

Are y'all set, all prepared to start
Move in close cause here comes the dope part
By the way, I'm the Taste, if tracks
Could talk but they - but here go the facts
Brace yourself, you shoulda grabbed a grip
Protect your clan cause we're about to trip
Bass reflex, the kicks that drive, divide
The weak from the rest can't survive

Syndicate's housin all competition
We paralyze a physical powerful vision
But savage ignorants pop that's ignorant listen
Divine is no time for style
And I rock your grey matter with a smile
Cause I'm the rhyme thriller with dimensions of flavor
The knack - stylistic black

The reason we're bustin these raps are what?
To make all you wack MC's shut up
You're always buyin rap records jammin def beats
Then dissin rap artists out in the streets
You always say our jams are wack but yours'll be tight
But you never been near a studio in your life
You see, disrespect is your last resort
You're like Howard [Name], you never played this sport
But you're always talkin mess bout how it should be done
And when we ask to hear your record you never made one
So this message goes to amateurs and pros alike
We're the MC's that cold be doggin the mic
You may be good but there's no one better
We rock you so cold, you need a cashmere sweater
Fight dirty in the pit when combat is on
We always attack before attacked upon

Yeah, Rhyme Syndicate, we in here
We tossin it up
I got my man Everlast in the house
Tossin it up, youknowwhatimsayin
Kid Jazz and Bango couldn't be here
But we gon' to' it up for them anyhow
Wherever you are you're a star
Rhyme Syndicate blowin up like napalm
I got my man Chilly Dee deejayin on the set
And the one and only DJ Evil-E, we in here
Yo, we outta here like last year
Rhyme Syndicate
We gotta do it like the alphabet and a-b-c ya
Yeah

Everlast
Everlast in full effect
Where's my gold record?
Where's my record?
Where's my record?

Divine Styler with Physical Poets, look out

Microphone King Donald D the notorious, yeah

This is Bronx Style Bob...

Nat The Cat, boy

Randy Mac
One in a million on your back, boy

Yo
So we bout to get outta here
Seems like the police is outside, man
(Yo Ice, man, they got King Tee, Aladdin and Islam)
What, the police, man?
I knew somethin had happened
I was wonderin why King Tee missed the party, man
Yo Randy Mac, you got some money?
(Aw, you know what time it is, man
I got...)
Yeah, for some bail, buddy
We got to go do some work, man...
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: HARRY WAYNE CASEY, RICHARD RAYMOND FINCH, TRACY MARROW
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING




Freedom of Speech

A-yo Ice, man. I'm working on this term paper for college.
What's the First Amendment?

Freedom of Speech, that's some motherf*ckin' bullshit
You say the wrong thing, they'll lock your ass up quick
The FCC says "Profanity - No Airplay"?
They can suck my dick while I take a shit all day
Think I give a f*ck about some silly bitch named Gore?
Yo PMRC, here we go, raw
Yo Tip, what's the matter? You ain't gettin' no dick?
You're bitchin' about rock'n'roll, that's censorship, dumb bitch
The Constitution says we all got a right to speak
Say what we want Tip, your argument is weak
Censor records, TV, school books too
And who decides what's right to hear? You?
Hey PMRC, you stupid f*ckin' assholes
The sticker on the record is what makes 'em sell gold
Can't you see, you alcoholic idiots
The more you try to suppress us, the larger we get

[You have the right to remain silent]
F*ck that right! I want the right to talk
I want the right to speak, I want the right to walk
Where I wanna, yell and I'm gonna
Tell and rebel every time I'm on a
Microphone on the stage cold illin'
The knowledge I drop will be heard by millions
We ain't the problems, we ain't the villains
It's the suckers deprivin' the truth from our children
You can't hide the fact, Jack
There's violence in the streets every day, any fool can recognise that
But you try to lie and lie
And say America's some motherf*ckin' apple pie
Yo, you gotta be high to believe that
You're gonna change the world by a sticker on a record sleeve
Cos once you take away my right to speak
Everybody in the world's up shit creek

Let me tell you about down south
Where a motherf*cker might as well not even have a mouth
Columbus, Georgia, said they'd lock me up
If I got on the stage in my show and said "F*ck"
So I thought for a minute and said "No,
I wasn't even gonna do a damned show"
Cos for me to change my words from my rhymes
Is never gonna happen cos there's no sell outs on mine
But I vowed to get those motherf*ckers one day
They even arrested Bobby Brown and Cool J
Yo, they got their's comin', cos I'm mad and I'm gunnin'
Homeboys, and there's no runnin'
I'm gonna tell you how I feel about you
No bull, no lies, no slack, just straight fact
Columbus, Georgia, you can suck my dick
You ain't nothin' but a piece of f*ckin' shit on the damned map

Freedom of Speech, let 'em take it from me
Next they'll take it from you, then what you gonna do?
Let 'em censor books, let 'em censor art
PMRC, this is where the witch hunt starts
You'll censor what we see, we read, we hear, we learn
The books will burn
You better think it out
We should be able to say anything, our lungs were meant to shout
Say what we feel, yell out what's real
Even though it may not bring mass appeal
Your opinion is yours, my opinion is mine
If you don't like what I'm sayin'? Fine
But don't close it, always keep an open mind
A man who fails to listen is blind
We only got one right left in the world today
Let me have it or throw The Constitution away

What they're trying to do with radio, with this, uh, McCarron-Walter
Act and a lot of other ways, is start by saying that they're
protecting the public from wicked rock bands, or girlie magazines, or
whatever. But, if you follow the chain of dominoes that falls down,
what they're really trying to do is shut off our access to information
itself.

If they can't do it by law they know there's other ways to do it.
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: JELLO BIAFRA, CHARLES ANDRE GLENN, TRACY MARROW
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




My Word Is Bond

(feat. Bronx Style Bob, Donald D, Nat The Cat)

[Intro:]
[Ice-T:] yo, yo, yo man, let me tell y'all the story man
[Posse:] Oh-oh, here we go again "Stop lying"
[Nat The Cat:] All lies
[Ice-T:] lyin' man, what you talkin' about?
[Nat The Cat:] All lies "Stop lying"
[Posse:] Let's hear this one
[Ice-T:] no man, you niggas is buggin' man
[Posse:] alright go a head, go 'head
[Ice-T:] Alright, let me tell you what's, let me tell you what's goin on, man
Let me tell you what happened to me
[Posse:] go a head, go a head, go a head "Stop lying"

[Verse 1: Ice-T]
The other day I spent a million on a def gold chain
It weighted thirty nine pounds, my name plate the same
I put it on, it was too heavy
So I hired me this brother to wear for me
One night, we was out chillin, he and I minus crew
I was held at gun point by a thug's .22
But when I told him that I was the L.A. player Ice-T
The brother robbed somebody else and brought the money to me
You might think I'm lyin' but man, you're wrong
As I told you before, my word is bond

[Interlude:]
[Posse:] You expect me believe that? "Stop lying"
You're the master of lying, man
[Ice-T:] Yo, look at you with your basketball outfit on, man
[Posse:] That's cause I can play
[Ice-T:] What do you know about basketball, man?
[Posse:] What I know?, yo, yo...

[Verse 2: Bronx Style Bob]
I played ball back in (name) Park
The (name) on the board, hit three pointers in the dark
I got a scholarship but said: "Yo, forget it "
Goin' straight to the Pro rank, coach, so don't sweat it
The Lakers wanted to pick me, but I said: "Step"
Cause takin' Magic's spot, could be bad for my rep "what"
So he sent me to Chicago, to play in front of... you know
But then I said: "Either he go or I go"
I gave Jordan a break, then came back to the city
You know, cause everybody missed me "right, right, right"
You think I'm lyin?, but brother, you're wrong
As I told you before, my word is bond

[Interlude: Ice-T]
Lies man, man you're crazy
Look at Donald D comin' through the door late
We're makin' a record, brother
What you're doin' so late, man
What's up, man? "Stop lying"

[Verse 3: Donald D]
My girl was pissed, so she tried to diss
The D, until I showed her my fist
I argued with her in the pouring rain
After the fightin' with her, I missed the train
It was delayed for an hour, so I fell asleep
When I woke up, I was on 14th. Street
By the time I got there, it was way too late
Came back uptown and decided to wait
Ran into her cous', and hung with him
Met Billy, Joe, Bob, Frank, Chuck and Slim
Went back to the crib to watch a VCR
And then I had to pick up my father's car
Looked around for my brother, to see where he went
And then I had to pay my mother's rent
I know y'all think I'm lyin', but listen, you're wrong
Like I told you before, my word is bond

[Interlude:]
[Ice-T:]
Lies man, you be late to the show
How you gon' make some money, man?
[Donald:] Money?, You talkin' about money?
[Ice-T:] Man, I got money, man
[Donald:] You ain't got no money, man
[Ice-T:] Yo, check this out

[Verse 4: Ice-T]
I got so much money that the bank couldn't hold it
Car so dope that I didn't wanna roll it
So many houses, sometimes I forget
I brought a yacht and a brand new lear jet
I flew to Paris just for good meal
Then to Rome, to sign a record deal
Off to London, to kick with the Queen "what Queen? "
Back to LA, I bought a football teem
I just can't stop spendin' that green
My girl loves the water so I brought baby a submarine
But see, I left my house without my credit Cards
I think I left my wallet in my other car
If you could loan me ten, I'd pay you back
Yo man, you're lookin' at me crazy, what's up with that?
You think I'm lyin' but man, you're wrong
As I told you before, my word is bond

[Interlude:]
[Bronx Style:] lyin' man
[Ice-T:]
Yo man, I'll pay you back
Yo, you be talking about them girls you got, man
You ain't got no women, man
[Posse:] That's why I went to jail, man
[Ice-T:] What's up with your girl, man?
[Bronx Style:] alright

[Verse 5: Bronx Style Bob]
Monday morning, walkin' down the block
Saw this girl in a Jag, y'all, and she stopped "aww man"
She said her father casted for the Cosby Show
And she said: "Bob, would you like to go? "
You know, so I went with her, and we chilled
Got her drunk off the Eight Ball, and we illed
She was stupid rich, so I bought myself an island
Charged it to her Master charge, I be wildin'
So, after that I stepped and she was cryin'
She gave me mansion, yo, why should I be lyin'?
You got me frontin'?, well homeboys, you're wrong
As I told you before, my word is bond

[Interlude:]
[Ice-T:] lies
[Bronx Style:] Why, why it gotta be all that, why it gotta be all
[Ice-T:] look at Donald, he always be lyin' about shows
[Posse:] Oh, he, he be lyin'
[Donald D:] yo, I ain't be lyin'
[Ice-T:] Check him out

[Verse 6: Donald D]
Yo Ice, I did a concert in the White House
And after that me and Donald Trump hung out
And then I knocked Vanity boots in a limo'
I rejected Michael Jackson's demo
Smacked Freddy Krueger and he didn't reply
Hit Mike Tyson in his eye
Sharks around me and didn't die
Drank a case of Cisco and I didn't get high
You might think I'm lyin, but listen, you're wrong
Like I told you before, my word is bond

[Interlude:]
[Posse:] You high right now, man
[Nat:] No, I'm not (Stop lying)
[Ice-T:] Let, let the man with the money get it right for you
[Bronx Style:] What money, man? (Stop lying)

[Verse 7: Ice-T]
You think I'm lyin' but I'm tellin' the stone truth
I have been player ever since my youth
In 1st grade I was knockin' kids out cold
In 2nd grade I was truckin' the large gold
In 3rd grade I was checkin' the youth bank
4th grade puttin' Gas in Benz my tank
By the 12th I was gamblin' outrageous
I drove through Desert and broke Los Vagus
You probably think I'm lyin' but brothers, you're wrong
As I told you before, my word is bond

[Outro:]
[Posse:] lyin' man, lyin' man
[Ice-T:]
What you talking about, man?
You and that basketball stuff you talkin' about
Donald talkin' 'bout Donald Trump, ' man, y'all is crazy
Shawnie Mac, what are they talkin' about, man?
My Word is Bond, home boy
[Posse:] Don't believe the hype
[Donald:] My Word is Bond
[Posse:] you be lyin' every time you talk
[Ice-T:] y'all all drunk
[Posse:] yo man, we outta here "Stop lying"
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher




Back to: Ice-T


The Iceberg/Freedom of Speech... Just Watch What You Say! is the third studio album by American rapper Ice-T, released on October 10, 1989, by Sire Records. The album has an uncharacteristically gritty sound, featuring some of the darkest tracks that Ice-T ever released.
Genre(s): Hardcore hip hop, gangsta rap
Producer(s): Ice-T, Afrika Islam
Length: 55:42
Released: October 10th, 1989
Year: 1989

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