print correct

O.G. Original Gangster Lyrics

from Greatest Hits: The Evidence

"O.G. Original Gangster" is track #8 on the album Greatest Hits: The Evidence. It was written by Tracy Marrow.
Edit
"O.G. Original Gangster" is track #8 on the album Greatest Hits: The Evidence. It was written by Tracy Marrow.
For Example...
What chart rank did the song debut? What is the song about? Has it won any awards?, etc.
Cancel Submit
Thank You For Your Submission
Your introduction will appear once it has been deemed awesome by our team of wizards.

Submit Corrections Cancel

Original gangster

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 was unprepaired
Who would tell it how it really 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
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
'Cause 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 from he streets
Rappin' bout hardcore topics over hardcore drum beats
A little different than the average though
Jet you through the fast lane drop ya on death row

'Cause anybody who's been there knows that life ain't so 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 blast 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 T
O.G.

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'?
He drew the Glock, yo my set's aimin'
Dumb motherfucker try to roll on me
Please I'm protected by a thousand MC's
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
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

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

So step to me if you think that you're ready to
Got on your bullet proof? Well mine's goin' right through
This ain't no game to me, it's hollow fame to me
Without respect from 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

Hostages 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 and the good times
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
...

Songwriters
TRACY MARROW

Published by
Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING OBO RHYME SYNDICATE MUSIC

Listen to Ice-T Radio on Last.fm, Radio.com or Jango

Music News

Poll

Vote Now
Next Poll