The Real One

Ice-TIce-T 

Follow 1 fan

Ice-T

Tracy Marrow (born February 16, 1958), better known by his stage name Ice-T, is an American rapper and actor. He was born in Newark, New Jersey, and moved to the Crenshaw district of Los Angeles when he was in the 7th grade. After graduating from high school, he served in the United States Army for four years. He began his career as a rapper in the 1980s and was signed to Sire Records in 1987, when he released his debut album Rhyme Pays, the first hip-hop album to carry an explicit content sticker. The next year, he founded the record label Rhyme Syndicate Records (named after his collective of fellow hip-hop artists called the Rhyme Syndicate) and released another album, Power. more »

4:20

1 View

 The easy, fast & fun way to learn how to sing: 30DaySinger.com

 

featuring Ice-T 

Verse 1: Brother Marquis 
Only the realest can feel us, cap-peelers and killers 
Hundred-dollar billers and real niggas 
Bitches with dime figures, telekenesis in my mind 
Make my diamonds shine, then I blind niggas 
Pussy punk perpatrators and playa haters - 
They can't fade us 'cause we two of the greatest 
Back out to let 'em have it, fake fucks and faggots 
Bow down in the presence of players and kiss the karats 
A wrist full of (?) for all the maggots 
Back up and get embarrassed, bitch, get off my carriage 
Uncut, no lactose, hear the raw dose 
Straight off the key, 100% G 
Who's puttin' it down on Miami's behalf 
Home of the nickel (?) and the raw half 
Everywhere we go, the impression's felt 
The real is stamped on the bag and the dope is dealt 

Chorus (2x): 
Gat in the back, sunroof top, 
Real one on the scene with the gangsta lean 
[The real one! Huh? Whut? 
The real one! Huh, nigga whut?] 

Verse 2: Ice-T 
It's '98, playa, check your game 
Make sure them young boys respect your name 
Keep your heed at arms, reached, cocked and ready 
'Cause the streets'll catch you slippin' and rock you steady 
Watch your back with your homies that you feel is real 
Your homeboys from your crew, yeah, they're the ones who do 
Yeah, the suckas that got the playa hater venom, 
I want to take 'em outside and lay slugs up in 'em 
But that's trippin', and that ain't my sport 
I'd rather lamp up my cirb and flip to rob a port 
I sip my v-dozen on the street, bump my beats 
When I'm twistin' my dub, can't nobody compete 
(Imagine this) Hundred-g Lex on your wrist 
(Imagine this) About 10 karats on your fist 
(Imagine this) All dime hoes on your list 
Huh, that shit would be nice, but your name ain't Ice 
(Nigga trip) And screw the style and so on, rock you softly 
How you gonna step to me, kid, you grew up off me 
TV, movies and records and tours 
So many buses in Versace I don't wear it no more 
Called my nigga in Miami, "Marquis, wussup?" 
He said, "Playa, chop some game on this bubblin' cut!" 
I said, "Shoot me the track, or you can come too, 
Or if y'all want to ball in Cali, I'll fly in your whole Crew." 

Chorus 

Verse 3: Brother Marquis 
I'ma stay in the field, on a quest for the mil's 
And try to keep it real till I die or get killed 
So I can sit back and kick it, write my own ticket 
And live this lavish lifestyle of trickin' and big-dickin' 
Seein' that the West and the South's connected 
Formulatin', plottin' game to perfection 
Down with the Syndicate, bossin' new tennis shit 
Crimes cold defended, get caught, do the sin 
There's politickin' in the 600, drunk and blunted 
That's how we front it, but you don't want to run up on it 
Inside the club packin', actin', 
Got my bitch at home see-sackin', got my ones stackin' 
Parlay, playin' diamond link, cubin' cable 
Baddest bitches in the stable, mo' money on the table 
I'm back in the game to show 'em how it's done 
Ice-T and Marquis, you're fuckin' with the real one! 

Chorus 

 Watch: New Singing Lesson Videos Can Make Anyone A Great Singer