Emceeand's no time out itand's time to rhyme out
youand've dug your own grave now you must climb out
dig out crawl out hide from the fallout
and'cause when i get mad i go all out
ice cooler than the coldest cube dude
and when iand'm micinand' boy iand'm know to get rude
criminal background itand's time to get down
i use a silencer donand't like the loud sound
off my mic blast you better run fast
the last punk that popped junk passed
spit on his grave,laughed,jumped in my stretch
signed his bitch an autograph
syndicate boy,i donand't fool out
youand're full grown,schooland's out
you try to diss?..i think you better cool out
and'cause your butt is smoke,if we ever duel out
this jam is directed,to all of those who expected
for me to cold be rejected,but now iand'm highly respected
and now their ears are infected
with dollar signs iand've collected
jealous punks,i said it!
Personal
take a personal
Take it personal,punk,iand'm talkinand' to you
and if they agree with you,then your crew too
i never diss an emcee,i wishand'em all good luck
but if you diss me to my face,duck
my style donand't ramble,you shouldnand't gamble
with your grill,i got a fist like an anvil
i write a record,lock it on the topic
evil and iz dog the track,then we drop it
record stores rock it,stock it,fans buy it
people that never heard of ice-t try it
then you try to diss? you got gall
i got gold on my neck and gold on my wall
gold in my fingers,gold in my ear
when this jamand's spinninand',goldand's what you hear
toy,this ainand't christimas,no time to play
i ainand't no child,punk,youand'll get sprayed
illinand' on a mega-villan
you must want a pine box to go chill in
buried deep,creep,no one will weep
and'cause the next night with your bitch iand'll sleep
Personal
take it personal
I ainand't east coast,west coast,new style,or old style
you wanna know about me? check police files
get out my face or you might have a bruised one
brass knuckle prints? yes,i used some
i ainand't here to boast,i donand't do that
when i talk itand's straight dope,pure facts
i rock hard but still called a new jack
but talk shit,youand're sure to get heard cracked
i donand't drink or smoke or do dumb drugs
but my posseand's still labeled street thugs
l.a.p.dand's got all my boyand's mugs
canand't use my phone for the damn bugs
i live in privacy,donand't like suckers hawking me
news reporters,some think they can talk for me
lies,misquotes,changinand' all my words around
but if i catchand'em on the street theyand'll get beat down
they get money for hype-type publicity
they donand't think twice,about dissinand' me
but thatand's a mistake,with tha syndicate you shoudnand't mess
i hope those punk reporters wear vests!
Personal
take that personal
now the words i speak to some may sound radical
but iand'll explain,itand's simply mathematical
you diss,i diss,this is creates an equal
you reply to my diss,this is called a sequel
i reply to your diss,this is called a battle
not intelligent,not very adult
so i donand't battle,i just put heads out
a straight line is always the direct route
i write lyrics clear,to leave no doubt
donand't even have to say who iand'm speakinand' about
you know who you are,you just jealous
and'cause you hear my records are million sellers
try to say iand'm wack,out on the streets
while your whole crew is jockinand' my beats
see me on t.v. and in the papers
see me at a jam,and catch vapors!
Personal
