A child was born in the East one day Moved to the West coast after his parents passed away Never understood his fascination with rhymes or beats In poetry he was considered elite
Became a young gangster in the streets of L.A. Lost connections with his true roots far away But no matter the job or crime He never lost his hardcore obsession to rhyme
New York's hip hop movement broke loose DJ's cut records, raps had the juice Since busting rhymes was his natural thing He was crowned the west coast MC king
But after his inauguration there was a rush Of wack rappers with one intention to crush This master rapper and take his throne A simple job, he had no crew, he stood all alone
Assassins came in groups of one through five With raps no mortal MC could survive But he showed no mercy, he rapped blood thirsty Battling from Friday on through to Thursday
Never losin', about never ending in doubt Every confrontation K.O. knock out On his never ending journey to the T.O.P. The L.A. player M.C. Ice-TTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
