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Ice T - O. G. Original Gangster Lyrics. Ten years ago. I used to listen to rappers flow. Talkin' bout the way. They rocked the mic at the disco. I liked how that shit was goin' down.

Dreamt about ripping the mic with my own sound. 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. Didn'T fantasize, kicked the pure. Facts. Motherfuckers got scared. Cause they weas unprepaired.

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Who would tell it how it relly was? Who dared? A motherfucker from the West Coast. L. A. South Central fool. Where the Crips and the Bloods play. When I wrote about parties. It didn't fit. Six in the Mornin'That was the real shit. O. G. Original Gangster.

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O. G. Original Gangster. O. G. Original Gangster. O. G. Original Gangster. O. G. Original Gangster. O. G. Original Gangster. O. G. Original Gangster. O. G. Original Gangster.

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.

Drop ya on death row. Cause anybody who's been there. 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.

But the science is always there. I'd be a true sucker.

If I acted like I didn'T care. I rap for brothers just like myself. Dazed by the game. In a quest for extreme wealth. But I kick it to you hard and real. One wrong move, and you caps peeled.

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. No imagination needed, cause I lived it. This ain't no fuckin' joke. This shit is real to me. I'm Ice- TO. G. Original Gangster. O. G. Original Gangster.

O. G. Original Gangster. O. G. Original Gangster. O. G. Original Gangster. O. G. Original Gangster.

O. G. Original Gangster. O. G. Original Gangster. O. G. Original Gangster.

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'! Dumb motherfucker. Try to roll on me, please!

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. Watch Beware HDQ.

Fight for the streets. When I'm on Oprah or Donahue.

They try to sweat a nigga. But they just didn'T figure. 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. Numbers on your roof top. For when the copters pass.

Gang bangers. Don't carry no switch blades. Every kid's got a Tec 9 or a. Hand grenade. Thirty- seven killed.

Last week in a crack war. Hostges tied up. And shot in a liquor store. Nobody gives a fuck"The children have to go to school."Well, moms, good luck. Cause the shit's fucked up bad. I use my pad and pen.

And my lyrics break out mad. I try to write about fun.

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! O. G. Original Gangster. O. G. Original Gangster. O. G. Original Gangster. O. G. Original Gangster.

O. G. Original Gangster. O. G. Original Gangster.