Classic West Coast song! ! !

[torenaga]

Artist: Ice-T
Album:  VI - Return of the Real
Song:   I Must Stand
Typed by: jostmatt@bluewin.ch

Nobody ever said life was gon' be easy
But damn..

[ VERSE 1 ]
Just a kid, moms died when I was seven
Pops died, eleven, what's up with heaven?
It's hell when you're an orphan at a early age
This impressionable stage, no love breeds rage
In the heart of a child who never knew his roots
Looked up to pimps and to hustlers in the eel-skin boots
Parkin Caddies on the sidewalk, gangsta talk
Truckin diamonds and gold
Rubberbands around the bankrolls
Fly girls to make your head spin
Seemed they partied all night long
I was like, "Put me on"
But they said, "Little fellow, run and go play
Take your butt to school or else you'll have to be like us one day"
I didn't understand, but I tried to get a job
While all the players got the girls cause they'd hustle and rob
I was like makin 'bout 1-50 a week
And after taxes, you know what that is - lunch meat

And I know I can be better than this
I gotta get me a car, man
I gotta get a girl

I know I can do it out there, man
I'm finna go for it, man
I gotta get some money
Word

[ VERSE 2 ]
Streets of anger, trouble and crime
I had it hard, had to sleep in my car sometime
But I never let another player see me down
I kept my front up, my gear clean
Even when checkin minor green
Brothers knew my game was true
So I hooked up with the real crew
That knew excactly what to do
Bank jobs and jewels, quick to flex with tools
Pimpin hoes on the block
Checkin cash non-stop
Crack spots, armor with interior bars
No lie, I used to own 'bout 15 cars
Every piece Fila made
Drape my women in suede
Pavet Piaget, Cesar's Palace holidays
It was on, crazy out of control
We made up the word 'ballin', that was how we rolled
But the FBI had a-whole-nother idea
It's called multiple indictments for hundreds of years

What
Daff is dead?
Carter got 25 years?
Nah..
Spike 35 to life?
Nah, don't tell me B.O.'s dead, man
I don't wanna hear that, man
I was just with him

[ VERSE 3 ]
The game is vicious, no retirement, you die young
Listen to a fake, he might tell you to grab a gun
I get phone calls from condemned row
Brothers I ran with, brothers I really know
They tell me, "Ice you got much love in the pen
You're the one that got away, don't wanna see you in"
They tell me, "Tell the little homies the deal
Don't let em come up in this hellish habitat of shanks and steel"
I marched two million strong in D.C.
Lookin eye to eye with brothers that I used to think below me
Damn, my mind was twisted in my hustlin days
But God spared me, I got a baby son to raise
And bein black ain't easy, prejudice is real
But health and liberty is all we need for us to build
We gotta come together, unseparated
Check yourself like I did, blackman, because we're all related
**********************************************
AWESOME!!!
Whats your feelings about it?

[Suga Foot]

I used to have this album, if i remember correct, Ice T, talks instead of rap in this song, or at least that's what it sounds like.

[West Coast Veteran]

This song was tight but I prefer his older work much more.

[stu-22]

Artist: Ice-T
Album:  Home Invasion

I was born in new jersey, I said it before
But I guess nobody heard me
My mother died young
No sistas or brothas, I was the only son
When I was twelve my pops died too
What a brotha was supposed to do?
They sent me out West
To live with my aunt
I guess they though it was the best
But there was no love there
Growin' with no moms
I guess I was prepared to live in a vacuum
The bedroom the kitchen, the hall and the bathroom
I didn't leave home much, didn't like L.A.
Didn't have no friends to trust
Got busted to a school
Blacks and whites, I guess the shit was cool
But in highschool I changed
Didn't wanna bust, didn't wanna play the game
I walked to Crenshaw high, shit was fly
I hooked up with new cru
Some brothas that knew what the fuck to do
You might call it gang but we called it a set
And it was our own thang
The whole school was down
And one way or another everybody fucked around
When the hardcore or not
you wore the right color or your ass got shot
That's how i'm livin'...

I did three years in and made close friends
Havin' no love my homies came my only
I was glad: a family I never had
But I grew up fast got a girl on 10th grade pregnant
Needin' cash, I had to change my style
Switched from bangin' to hustlin'
No more goin' buckwild
Had to get a cashflow
But my hustle was weak, it was a no go
I join the army, four years in that shit
Be all fucked you can be
Came back to the hood
My homies had done good
Had elevated their game
About 100 gees a lick, no mothafuckin' shame
Passed for the jewels
Baby sledgehammers with the tools
I speak on this with a hesitation
Even though it passed the statue of limitation...

I checked the bank
Bought a porsche and gear, earn high streetrank
But as I grew my whole crew fell thru
Cops had us on the books as innerstate crooks
Murder robbery rape escape, the whole damn nine
You robbed a nigga blind
I had too much juice, I cut my boosters loose
I was intread with the pimpgame
Took on the ice-name
But the pimpgame moved too slow
Especially for a nigga who was hooked on quick dough
In one nite late I was in a carwreck
And I was lucky to escape
Hospital for teen weeks, in bed almost dead
And when I got well, I got gaught in a cross
And got locked in a jailcell
That's how I'm livin'...

They cutted me loose
And I had to change troops
This time they didn't catch me
Next time they'll strecth me
Cause my time was gettin' short
All my homies was in court
Or locked in a hole, this shit was gettin' old
So I changed my life
Putted down the gun and picked up the mic
It took ten years to get from there to here
But I still keep a gun, cops got me on the run
And they hate me more now
Than they ever did before
My homies came back from pen
And we all worked together
True friends but every once and while
Some punk mistakes me as a junk
And he gets in my face
Wrong mothafuckin' place
And I aint lyin', that's how you dyin'...