Hip-Hop Icons - Dj Kay Slay, Kool G Rap, Ice T

Hey, yo, it’s DJ Kay Slay, the drama king

Ice-T, Kool G Rap

Hip-Hop Icons

Let’s go

It’s been a long time, niggas forgot

You push up on mine, niggas get shot

Master with the caliber, don’t respect your throne

Don’t worry 'bout me, the devil protects its own

This so often, I stare and gaze into a coffin

But I don’t cry, niggas must die

My bloodlust is unquenchable

My thirst for revenge you bitch niggas can’t comprehend

I might let you live a few years, feel yourself

Death is always near and then it gets dealt

This ain’t the pop that the kids bop to

This what the hard rocks cock Glocks to

I hate rap niggas, I love street cats

I serve wack niggas, please believe that

Iceberg bitch, motherfucker you heard

I been away for a minute so the lines got blurred

I ain’t impressed by your jewelry, that could get took

Don’t floss around me, nigga, you shook

All your dope talk, crack talk, trap talk bullshit

How could real niggas stomach your lies?

You never fuck with no live niggas I know

Only place you’re hard is in your motherfucking bio

I’ma go on 'cause I feel the mic starting to heat

Grip the wood on the wheel, lay back in your seat

I ain’t new to this shit, I could rap for weeks

Especially with these Kay Slay types of beats

Listen

It’s been a long time, niggas forgot

You push up on mine, niggas get shot

Master with the caliber, don’t respect your throne

Don’t worry 'bout me, the devil protects its own

KGR boy, Queens grime nigga

Turn your block into the scene of the crime niggas

A mean shine, nigga, the beam on the nine, nigga

Killers move in silence and violence of mines whisper

Corona the own, I rep it to the death boy

Soda bottle or nozzle to lower down the deck boy

Everyday generating another hood chronicle

Niggas come comical, I fix 'em with the llama too

The money in '85 was so astronomical

Chest, neck gripping with ice like a comma do

Yeah, nigga, this the auto bio

Fuck with the auto, die yo

Murder here, my nigga, universe caught a slug in the eye, yo

Pies seventeen five moving the bottles

Bottom of the pot rock pat 'em and dry those

Lay low from homicide with a side hoe, you know how it go

Get your gats out, hoods on, masks up

In my dark world fuck boys get touched

I’m much older and colder now

No beat, just release the hounds

I move the social elite from the concrete

It wasn’t easy, lotta blood got spilled

Shit got greasy, good men got killed

Somehow I kept my head down, kept moving

A lot had to be shown, it had to be proven

And I’m still alive today

So don’t test me in no type of way

You may catch me in the street rolling dolo

Or on the beach in some Ralph Lauren Polo

Or in the next booth over in the hottest club

Or at some hell of a spa getting my feet rubbed

(That nigga plays a cop) Broke nigga, don’t speak

Seventeen years, 200k a week

Nigga, you on the bus, while I’m whipping a fleet

If you can’t add money, you ain’t from the street