You're gonna seal or sell pussy if you roll with the Ice

[ CHORUS ]

[ VERSE 2 ]
Oh my God, the nigga rolls hard..
Every player mentions me
The hustler of the century
(Ice, that nigga ain't nothin nice!)
I got more freaks than Heff', my bankroll's off vice
Commandin straight pimp tactics
None of y'all can match this
Meet a freak in a week, her workplace a matress
Really though, recognize the pimp type flow
I don't smoke endo, I count cash on my patio
So much love on the streets, don't need no bodyguard
Big up to my homies with the pimp type nod
I'm off the hook, checkin traps in Vegas [Name]
Full link mink with the matchin borsalino
I change cars like you change drawers, bitch
I got a stable full of thoroughbreds that make me rich
Niggas hate me, cause they can't control they roll
They see that fat old ass and start givin me cash

[ CHORUS ]

[ VERSE 3 ]
My mind's blown off fine champagne
So bent on currency, got green in my vein
So damn smooth that every woman wanna touch me
So much sexuality that nuns wanna fuck me
I kick back with my pimpin ballin brothers
Stand over the bed, dump the cash on the covers
The game's got me, I'm a slave to the roll
Hoes belong on the track and I belong in gold
Silk and satin, I deserve a pimpin pattin
Been in the life so long cause I stomp bitches who start rattin
Mostly friendly, but do got that gorilla in me
Save it for the player-hater niggas with the envy
Lot of niggas talk it, but they can't hold a hooker
Ice took her, she was too long a looker
It's strictly straight-lace hustlin on mine
I been pimpin all my life and I don't mind dyin

[ CHORUS ]

"Rap Games Hijacked"

Yeah
Too many hardcore muthafuckas out here in this business
Ain't gettin their proper loot
You know what I'm sayin?
(Right)
Check the technique
(Aha)

[ VERSE 1 ]
Everybody talkin 'bout the way hip-hop ain't the same
Suckers kidnapped the game
I know the biggest in the business, and no joke
Half of em broke - and none of em smoke
(Bust the facts, loc)
I got into this hip-hop game
Just to try to get a girl and get some light-weight fame
There'd never been no cash made in it
So who thought you could get paid with it?
Just crash the club with my crew and then I'm outta there
Hit some skins, act bugged, that was a rap career
Then Run-D.M.C. jumped the fuck off
Got mad paid, word, kicked the bucks off
There wasn't many rappers out there rockin the streets
When hip-hop was just cuts and beats
I seen _Wildstyle_, dug the scene
I wanna be an MC, rock, rock on - know what I mean?
I started crashin rap contests
Shootin hardcore rhymes through wack MC's chests
I signed on the lines of a wack contract
Didn't even read it, fuck that
They gonna put my record out
I'm gonna be large, know what I'm talkin about?
In the first 2 years I made about 300 bucks
Yo, this business sucks
But I got another chance and I came correct
Got a lawyer and accountant, now my shit's legit
But many won't get no second chance
And get fucked in this biz without a kiss or a dance
The game is to exploit young ghetto kids
A straight pimp game, and there ain't no shame
And the shit's gone too far
100 hip-hop labels with all white A&R's

The game's hijacked

The rap game's hijacked

Let me tell you how it happened

[ VERSE 2 ]
Now while every MC in the game
Was worryin about a white boy gettin the fame
They dug out the foundation
Now let me give a demonstration
Say you got a dope group from the hood
Talkin mad shit like they're up to no good
You take em to a label
Now who sits behind the table?
Some jewish muthafucka that don't know shit
Tryin to tell y'all what's a fuckin street hit
The shit's way off course
It's like me tellin Johnny Cash how to sing about his horse
You go on tour, the white agency says you're wild
Tone down your style
The radio jocks are all pop
So how the fuck this nigga know what shit to rock?
The shit that make your face turn green
Is when you get dissed by a kidnap magazine
I give a fuck about these muthafuckas
I'm doin this jam to save my hip-hop brothers
Get your paperwork straight, kid
Get a lawyer and accountant just like I did
Don't blow your dough, cause you will see g's
But this game has no guarantees
Learn about publishing points, so you won't be blind
Learn to read everything you sign
Then you might have a chance
If not, bend over, pull down your pants

The game's hijacked

(Yeah
I don't they hear you, brother)
Yo, the rap game's hijacked
(Word)
I'm talkin 'bout a hijack
(Say it one more time, baby)
The rap game's hijacked
Check it
(Break it down for these niggas)

[ VERSE 3 ]
You can go gold and still owe the record label cash
Yo kid, check the math
Learn about the word 'recoup', troop
And stop walkin round all hyped and souped
You ain't nothin but somethin to be used and worked
You ain't nothin but a sucker to be duped and jerked
Cause the fuckin record label don't love ya, pal
They didn't love ya on the street and don't love ya now
They're out to make an end, friend
Cause every dollar you make, they damn near make 10
They'll take you for everything you got
Or else they'll sign you and they put on the shelf to rot
I'm tryin to tell you what's up
You best to listen to this record even if you hate my fucking guts
Cause I just can't stand around and watch rap get done
And my brothers ain't gettin none
A nigga like me has gotta spit game
Nigga, get that cash flow. fuck that muthafuckin fame
Cause the white man's rippin us off once again

Real hip-hop, my man

Fool, the rap game's hijacked
You need to listen, nigga
The rap game's hijacked
Need to play this record about ten times
The rap game's hijacked
Black people don't own shit
The rap game's hijacked
Check it

R&B's hijacked
Black acting is hijacked
Just being black is hijacked
(Build, my nigga, build, my nigga)
Nigga
Stupid muthafuckas, they rippin us off
You better get a end..
While the money's there, boy
Silly-ass bitch runnin around with a gold chain
All niggas gotta get some real estate
Muthafucka
Come up
Fuck a bitch
Better get somethin you can own, asshole
White man ain't givin up shit
Word o' life
Although I got a white engineer
But he's gettin minimum wage
So it's cool...

Yeah
Shit's been hijacked

"Return of the Real"

Yo, what's up with all these niggas
On these muthafuckin records talkin all this bullshit
(Man, I don't know about these niggas out here
Them other sucker-ass niggas, them old fake-ass bitches)
I ain't tryin to hear that shit, man
These bitches ain't players, man
(Yeah man
You know these niggas out here been fakin for years, man
I'm glad my nigga Ice comin with that HP shit
That high-powered shit..)

[ VERSE 1 ]
Peace to my street niggas movin that weight
Much love to my comrads who's out in upstate
Mad connections from the bottom to the top of the game
Street fame, I got much that's in touch with my name
Got a overload of guns to unload on a lame nigga trippin
Wake up my posse, interrup the Rùmy-sippin
Four in your back and keep bailin
Listen to the HK wailin and your vital signs failin
Everyone that ever met me knows
I work bitches like niggas, pimp niggas like hoes
Command a mack that's immaculate, your girl's naked
You think she ain't been hit, kid yo, you best to check it
For ten years I been connected to the top of this
Hold your breath, kid, I'm never droppin this
Too busy rollin off them fat chrome rims
And niggas who trip get sung hymns
We crash clubs and security shits
Cause they know they got size but they know we keep clips
Crazy muthafuckas lickin shots in doors
Leavin suckers' bodies bleedin over nightclub floors
You don't want none, son, stay gone
Break north when I come and you might live long
Yeah, my face kickin treble, you're just a pebble
You're gettin rocked, yo E, cock the glock
And let these niggas know, yo, that the west don't play none
Fire shoots out of my strap like a ray-gun
You broke ill and you cold fucked up

Now you're bleedin through your fingers while you're holdin your gut
For real

[ CHORUS ]
So get your money how you want to, friend
But when it's time to count the chips only the real will win
(Return of the real) the game of life is only fake and true
But it's all about the dollars when the day is through

[ Hot Dollar ]
(Cause the pimps don't get no bigger
Than these here niggas)

It's the return of the real

(These muthafuckas best to get to recognize
Before I gets to chastizin
Cause see, the shit all ties in
It's just some of that pimp, player, hustler shit
Ice-T been around for a while now
Nigga was gangbangin when gangbangin wasn't even cool, nigga

What you know about that shit?)

[ VERSE 2 ]
I go deep into the street life's anatomy
A nigga take me out - yo, what a upset that'd be
And if I fall I fall on cushions, ???
Hittin niggas up with the Tec and watch the blood gushin
I see your videos, a 100 niggas in it you don't know
Framed in the lens, bought friends
Who really got your back, nigga, check it out
You really possess like zero street clout (think about)
The only place you're safe is in the studio
Yellin in the mic, you'se a bitch, that's right
I take a nigga like you and make him prostitute cute
So what you got a gun, punk, you're scared to shoot
You front hardcore, but I don't feel ya
Kids from my hood'll take your punk ass and peel ya
Let me check my Rolex quick because time's money
Squintin from the Pavet face because it's kinda sunny
Skinnin the top back, flossin the rag and the thing
Feelin the sun, backin off of my pinky ring
Hittin the 'Shaw with my niggas and clown
Lift the ass, hit the switch, raise the front off the ground
But most of the time you can't see a nigga
Deep in the archives parlayin new ways to get my bank bigger

"The 5th"

He yo, Ice
This guy here say he wants to get in, man
You're sure homeboy's ready?
Yo Ice, this nigga said he's ready, man
Yo, kid you're sure you wanna be down with this, right?
Yeah, I'm sure, I'm ready
Aight
Know what you're in for, right?

[ VERSE 1 ]
Blood flows like sands in the hourglass
Cash moves everything
Bitches in g strings
Gats flashin, mothers make cream on a stick move
Improve your dope flow
Cold max with the long dough
High rollin, back breakin plot diggers
The ill niggas
Comanche style
Blood letting weapons of death
Stop your breath
If you trip on the click
A hot thump to your chest
And your back just rips
You wanna be a made man
The fam accepts no mistakes
Chopped up bodies, lots of funeral wakes
Make your bones
Bring a rat back dead just ahead
A cop's better
Use this beretta
Snitch, bet your bitch
She in a pre-dug ditch
Cause I command a whole batallion of life takers
Plus the other bosses wanna see yo guts
Check your nuts
Dump the bodies in the desert
Here's the keys to a truck
Me, I'm overloaded, born hard and scarred
Crime intellect
More complex than nerves in your spinal chord
Bank job my forte
Not off of gunplay
Hostage taker
I killed my brother with a salt shaker
He tried to short me a buck
What the fuck?
A nigga that lies
Is a nigga that dies
No cries for the punk
He got trunked and bombed
Since he tried to steal I chainsawed his arm
I drink blood from a cup when I wanna then
Plus the bosses up north made me kill my friend
They told me, "This ain't no game, kid, you're in it

You're down with the Syndicate, but never admit it"

[ CHORUS ]
Muthafucka, now you're down for life
Rat on the fam and we'll kill your wife
Fuck up a scam and you'll feel the knife
Who is this?
(The Syndicate does not exist)

[ VERSE 2 ]
A thousand ki's, off-shore private yacht
Really ain't no sweat, Coast Guard and customs are bought
Columbian-Mexicano connect
Raise the bet
One DEA woudn't roll, we pulled his tongue through his neck
Just a message to the rest: don't test
Housing developments are built on the bodies
Of punks who wouldn't party
Big shots are called from the pen's inner sanctum
Where the mega-gees
Regulate the streets, fuck release
They got power that you can't comprehend, my friend
They want you dead, yo, you're dead before the daylight ends
Your eyes shiver and you grit your teeth
You sold your soul, now cold blood's how you get relief
Now you do what we do, say what I say
Muthafucka, don't blink unless I say okay
This is a organization, not a one-man gang