Songtexte: Ice T. O.G. Original Gangster. Mic Contract.

Brainstorm microphone napalm
This is it, words from a time bomb
Attack speed, fast as an F-fifteen
Raise the heat, light the gasoline
Overload, it might cause a blackout
Dead end, there's no chance to back out
Hit the tripwire, duck from the gunfire
Broken glass, screech'n car tires, bodies hit the deck
As I commence to wreck
Eject another clip and drip sweat
Face of danger, increasin' anger
Point blank, I smoke another stranger
Grip the mic tight, I see the brake lights
Hit the back door, I lay down cross the floor
E's on the wheels, he makes the rubber squeal
Blood's on my gear from caps I've peeled
About a block away I sit up, look back
It wasn't nothin' but a microphone contract

Dressed in black, I stalk my prey
Parabellum in a leather attache
Low tones I speak, I speak to few
Just give me the money and who the fuck to do
Four blocks away my aim's clean
Night scope on a silence carbine
Place my cross hairs on my vic's eye
Squeeze the trigger, watch the brains fly
Violent? Yeah, you could call me that
Insane? You're on the right track
But turn the sounds up so I can stay amped
Do another crew and break camp
The only way I sleep is in a cold sweat
You say I'm crazy? You ain't see shit yet
'Cause I love to kill and kill for fun
The microphone goes off like a handgun
It's goin' down now grab your girl, hops
No excuses when the bodies begin to drop
Look in my face, fool, it look like I'm playin'
Don't become another victim of mic slayin'

What's up? You want your feet in some concrete?
I got some brothers that'll do you for gold teeth
But most the time I move, I move alone
Take a bat, break your motherfuckin' dome
Shoot you dead in the face with a sawed off
One hundred ten degrees, ice don't get soft
'Cause I'm hard as they come, I come correct
You can't handle the vandal hit eject
If not you better get out my face, sucker
Or else you better be a good bullet ducker
'Cause I'm a rip shop, tell that ass drop
Five O ice, yo fuck a damn cop
'Cause I move hard and cold with a gangster stroll
Five thousand dollar suits and fly gold
Rolex, you can't fit no more diamonds on it
Pinky ring, worth a house, if I decide to pawn it
What's up now punk? You start to choke up?
You try to move on the ice, you'll get broke up

Midnight, time for a homicide
Showtime, somebody's gonna die
E hits the switch and thousands of volts connect
With the weapon that's in my fist
I see a sucka in the third row, tryin' to riff
A paragraph and a half he's stiff
I start bustin' off barrages ear high
Mothers grab for their children, tears fly
I'm like a psycho in the microphone zone
Speakers blown, mind gone, I can't be touched
Once my lyrics begin to fly
Simple stage radiation could make you die
You got a prob nigga, you think your rep's bigger?
Hold your heard right there while I squeeze the trigger
'Cause I'm a crazy motherfucker, that's no joke
My favorite smell is the aroma of gunsmoke
I'm bustin' off another lyrical nightmare
Parents hate the ice, you think that I care?
Well, I don't give a fuck 'cause I rhyme tough
Drop science, still bust the ill stuff
So now it's time for crime and the rhyme is mine
Track the movement hide from the punchline
I rhyme with quickness, microphone fitness
The assassinator stay off the shit list