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"What Ya Wanna Do?"
(feat. Rhyme Syndicate)

"What Ya Wanna Do?"
(feat. Rhyme Syndicate)

(Okay party people in the house) - [MC Ricky D/Slick Rick]

[INTRO: Ice-T]
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?

[ROUND 1: Ice-T]
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

[ROUND 1: Randy Mac]
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

[ROUND 1: Nat The Cat]
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

[ROUND 1: Donald D]
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

[ROUND 1: Bronx Style Bob]
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 [?]

[ROUND 1: Hen-Gee]
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

[ROUND 1: Shaquel Shabazz]
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

[ROUND 1: Toddy Tee]
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

[ROUND 1: Everlast]
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

[ROUND 1: MC Taste]
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

[ROUND 1: Divine Styler]
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

[ROUND 2: Ice-T]
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

[ROUND 2: Randy Mac]
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

[ROUND 2: Nat The Cat]
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

[ROUND 2: Donald D]
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

[ROUND 2: Bronx Style Bob]
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

[ROUND 2: Hen-Gee]
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

[ROUND 2: Shaquel Shabazz]
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

[ROUND 2: Toddy Tee]
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

[ROUND 2: Everlast]
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

[ROUND 2: MC Taste]
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

[ROUND 2: Divine Styler]
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

[ROUND 2: Ice-T]
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

[OUTRO: Ice-T]
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

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

[Divine Styler]
Divine Styler with Physical Poets, look out

[Donald D]
Microphone King Donald D the notorious, yeah

[Bronx Style Bob]
This is Bronx Style Bob...

Nat The Cat, boy

[Randy Mac]
Randy Mac
One in a million on your back, boy

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...


"Where The Shit Goes Down?"

"Where The Shit Goes Down?"

Ice-T, nigga
Strictly Westside, nigga
South Central in the muthafuckin hiddouse
Check the technique, nigga
Representin for my real niggas out there
Fuck all you buster-ass niggas

[ VERSE 1 ]
Saturday night in L.A., time to play
My peoples hummin like a vibrator, gotta make crime pay
I'm packin two gats and I wish I could carry more
Might sound crazy, but I ran out of slugs before
Yeah, I know the feds watch me
But my vest clashes hard with the Versace
So I'm just rollin in the black five hun'
I used to lowride, now it's just for fun
I had 5 cars, but now I got one
Hard to keep up ballin when you're on the run
I got two ki's in my trunk and a shovel
Stepped on the one, so now I gots double
The shovel's for drama, need I say more?
Got the fat stash spot under my passenger floor
That's for the other strap, the automatic type
I gotta keep it close in case shit gets hype
Got a bitch in jail, she didn't snitch, she did three
I'ma have to roll solo till they set her free
Cause I got some other crimeys down, true gees
But they got all day, so now it's just me
And I'ma kick this slang until the day I die
I can't go straight, I won't even try
I'm stuck in the game, so don't ask me why
It's life in L.A.

I lowride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
Long Beach and Compton are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where the shit goes down

[ VERSE 2 ]
Now niggas like they credit and they like to get they loans on
So I hooked up with my boy who turns them phones on
He told me bout this nigga who won't pay
He also said he knew excactly where the muthafucka stay
So I went and got some homies I hang with
Some crazy muthafuckas who I used to bang with
We took a trip to his crib
I snatched his hoe and his kids, and this is what we did
I tied they punk ass up
I cracked the safe with an axe, and then the phones we cut
I didn't hurt his wife
But I promised next time that I would take her life
I shot a nigga in his neck for disrespect, caught a body
Got a murder in Miami for a shoot-out at a party
Got blood in my trunk from a punk who squealed
Had a partner tried to play me and his cap I peeled
Now I rest with my finger on my heater
Hand on my beeper, a light sleeper

I lowride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
New York and Philly are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where my shit goes down

I lowride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
Frisco and Oakland are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where my shit goes down

[ VERSE 3 ]
I use to sling enough water you could float a boat
You could ski on the mountains of fuckin coke
But now most niggas serve chronic
So I let em check the bank, and then I'm all up on it
I serve em with a cute hoe
In a week they tell my bitches 'bout all they dough
Then I jack and I kill
The jack's for the money, the kill's for thrills
I got 9'000 blacks that still serve crack
Got a bitch who works the Plaza too on the track
Got a GTA connection and I fence for jewels
Got some little kids that move my fuckin dope in schools
Got warrants for arrest in about 20 states
Got a bigger body count than fuckin Norman Bates
I'm a killer, jacker, dealer, pimp supreme
I'm livin out the hustler dream

I lowride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
Houston and Atlanta are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where that shit goes down

[ VERSE 4 ]
Tonight I gotta meet this nigga from around the way
Some think he's cool, I think he's DEA
He said he want it bad, he heard that I got it good
I bagged up ten ki's of flour and met him in the hood
I met him at my spot, cause I know it's cool
Pat him down on sight to remove his tool
I made him name 10 niggas he should know
But that still ain't shit in the game of blow
He asked to see the dope, I asked to see the cash
He reached for that briefcase too fast
A fuckin pig, yo, he thought he had the chump
I had my nigga in the closet with a bull pump
And now there's fuckin shot-up body all on the floor
But that's what the shovel's for...

I lowride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
Newark and Miami are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where my shit goes down

I lowride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
Detroit and Chicago are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where that shit goes down

I lowride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
D.C. and Cleveland are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where the shit goes down

I lowride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
I know all my niggas live in down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where my shit goes down


"Ya Shoulda Killed Me Last Year"

"Ya Shoulda Killed Me Last Year"

Before I go I'd like to say a few things
This album was completed on January 15th. 1991
By now the war has probably started
And a whole bunch of people have probably died out there
In the desert over some bullshit
There's a war going on right now in my neighborhood
But I can't really determine which one is worse!
I think the one, that we are all fighting is fucked up
And that's the war inside our brains, you know
But uhh.. I feel bad about all the brothers and sisters
Whose getting pulled right out of their neighborhoods
An all the cities, and uhh.. small towns in America
That go over there and fight for that BULLSHIT!
That most of them don't really have anything to do with
So I gotta send PEACE Out! to them
Also PEACE Out! to all my homies in jail
Brothers that are dead, and locked up right here on earth
Talking about the brothers in Solidad, San Quentin
All the way up to Pelicans Bay, Tracy, Chino
And all my homeboys out there in the East Coast lockdown facilities
I'm talking about Clinton, Rykers, Jolead,
You know every prison in the whole fucking world, man
That's like, you know, all bullshit, you know
They say slavery has been abolished except for the convicted felony
Y'all need to think about that
That lets you know what the fucking constitution really is about, you know
A lot of my homeboys have been locked down my whole entire career
And that's some bullshit
So for them, from the Rhyme Syndicate and Ice-T
I'd like to send this special shout out

Fuck the police, Fuck the FBI, Fuck the DEA, Fuck the CIA
Fuck Tipper Gore, Bush and his cripple BITCH!
This is Ice-T, I'm out of here
Told you, you should have killed me last year!


"You Played Yourself"

"You Played Yourself"

[Verse 1]

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...

[Verse 2]

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...

[Verse 3]

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...

[Verse 4]

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.




Once again I'm back in the place to be
The I, the C, the E, the T
I'll never get a Grammy, so fuck the G
All I need is crowd, and my M-I-C
Got a gangster ass DJ named Evil E
My record label's called Warner B
William Morris is my agency
I'll never go broke, I got property
Got a dope pitbull named Felony
Got four gold albums
So what you tell'n me?
Power was two, Iceberg was three
This one here shipped five hundred G
Now when I roll, I roll stupid deep
Benz's, Bemers, and boomin' Jeeps
I'm always strapped
Cause my money I keep
You move on the Ice
And you're goin' to sleep
But when you see me
Walkin' down the street
You say, "What's up Ice?"
And I say, "Peace!"
You give me a dap, I give you one back
Cause I ain't souped
So forget about that
We might take pictures
Sign n utograph
Kick a little flavor
Have some fun and laugh
But step to me wrong
You might get shot
And wind up lookin' out a ziplock!!!