What Ya Wanna Do? Lyrics - Ice T

Party! 

(Okay party people in the house) 

Yo yo, in the place to be 

My name is MC Ice-T 

I got the Rhyme Syndicate with me 

We about to tear stuff up, y'all feel good? 

Yo, what the hell y'all wanna do, Syndicate, tonight, what you wanna do? 

(Party!) 

Randy Mac in the place to be, what you wanna do? (Party!) 

Nat The Cat, you're in the house tonight, what you wanna do? (Party!) 

Donald-D is in the place to be, what you wanna do? (Party!) 

Bronx Style Bob is in the house, what you wanna do? (Party!) 

Hen-Gee is in the house, what you wanna do, homeboy? (Party!) 

My man Shaquel is in the place to be, what you wanna do? (Party!) 

Yo, Toddy Tee is in the house tonight, what you wanna do? (Party!) 

Yo, Everlast is in the house, come on, what you wanna do? (Party!) 

And MC Taste is in the place to be, what you wanna do? (Party!) 

My man Divine is in the house, what you wanna do, homeboy? (Party!) 

Yo yo, I'm about to kick this party up, is that alright? 

Yo, Yo, MC Ice on a Syndicate Rhyme spree 

You say you wanna be down, you gotta talk to me 

You wanna get in? Put a sucker's head out 

Sound a little hot for you, boy? Then, toy, get out 

Syndicate mob ain't nothin but hardened crooks 

You try to diss, your butt is on a meat hook 

Want some of me? You're on a mission 

Bad move, you end up missin 

Let's get it straight for the '89 tip 

Randy Mac is clockin a stupid grip 

On the party track I'm cold lampin 

But when the Syndicate rolls I be jackin 

You thought I fell off, I ain't even slipped 

The Mac is cuttin records and punks are gettin ripped 

Gangster I am, bust the lyrics like a drive-by 

You wanna sleep? Well, it's lights out, beddy-bye 

Notorious Asiatic, tough, talented 

A power entertainer 

Catapultin above the top 

Nat The Cat, too swift to be stopped 

I'm like Jordan, a team player on a solo flight 

Lookin down on MC's faces full of fright and fear 

I slam dunk a rap through their ear to hear 

Heureka! I just struck a platinum fame 

In the game things'll never be the same 

Because money changes everything 

Once again comin at you hyper 

Donald D the Syndicate Sniper 

Boston Strangler, Charles Manson 

No matter what killer I mention, keep dancin 

Five Fingers Of Death, Fists Of Fury 

St. Valentine's Day Massacre on a jury 

Wanna convict me for kickin black on wax 

I walk the street with a battle axe 

Life ain't nothin but a piece of existence 

Cause when you die, you'se a past tense 

So I like to live my life like a big carnival 

Get drunk, act like an animal 

I like the rock'n rolll, the funk, the jazz and hip-hop 

Suckers get loud, I drop em 

I like 

I'm Bronx Bob, bring the beats and I'm 

Black stallion, knockin on concrete walls 

Standin tall, rappers in my face, they stall 

Stutter, softer than melted butter 

There's no other word, go ask your mother 

Hard solid as your city 

Born in Brooklyn, can tell by the way that I walk and talk 

Strollin with a slight limp 

Flyer than any big city pimp 

Gold, girls, cold cash 

On the mic Shaquel Shabazz 

Supreme, the Lord, the G-o-d 

Down with the Syndicate posse 

It's you we rule without a tool 

Mathematics in effect, it's time to school 

I'm the principal and knowledge is the key 

Shaquel in the place to be 

I climb a mountain top with just one rope 

Get to the top of the stairs and say a rhyme that's dope 

Cause I'm a cliffhanger, no, I ain't a stranger 

Yo, I'm Toddy Tee, and I'm a Compton banger 

Wanted by the F.B.I. for transport of 

Sucker MC's across the Syndicate borders 

No, they can't give me no time, cause it's my rhyme 

Everlast, get funky for me one time 

Everlast is in effect gettin big respect 

Then I collect big checks 

1's, 5's, 10's and 20's 

A 100 g's and I'm pullin honeys 

Left and right, day and night 

You gotta see it to believe it, it's quite a sight 

They're all on the tip to get a sip 

Of this poetic performer that's fully equipped 

Y'all played yourselves right in front of the mic 

Moved your body so that the feelin was right 

But if you get lost scream out and admit 

That the beat's too fast, slow it down or I quit 

I'm not the kind to give you a call 

To stop on a rap that I lead, so I pause 

I give you 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 

If that ain't enough, sit down till we're done 

Syndicate scorned, you act obedient 

Tired of your fish rhyme ingredients 

Black on black while styles 

of brothers that's gotta be 

Circlin cyphers into molecules 

Takin over your space, that's illogical 

The vocal chords on a board with 24 tracks 

Get away from the break gotta rap 

Syndicate posse growin, goin out of control 

You say we're weak? This record's shippin gold 

Power, strength, my posse got unity 

We stick together and we're soon to be 

In your town, we gonna bring the roof down 

Ice-T and the syndicate underground 

No selll-outs, cause it's caps we peelin 

Girls we love em, and shows we steal em 

Knowledge and wisdom, it's a mystery 

I drop science for the ones who know it's me 

You say I'm dope, cool, it makes sense 

I ain't conceited, I'm just convinced 

Strapped for the attack Randy Mac is rollin 

The mic, the mixer, then the show is stolen 

The pimp, the player, hustler kicker 

Watch your girl, cause I stick her 

Nat The Cat, my man will rap when I'm playin the back 

Some think my stage presence is low, I think it's loud 

Enough to see me flowin and showin 

Go psycho breakin backs like bolo 

Give me the mic, a metamorphis ignite 

I break down on a cat stand, I kill ya like a hitman 

And come out kickin with the 

Rockin on a rappin rampage 

In control of the stage 

There's a mouse in my house, so I bought a cat 

The cat ran away, cause now there's a rat 

I'm on the attack with my baseball bat 

That one rap brought many of us back 

All through my house I set up traps 

It seem like the rats have a map 

But nowadays I don't know how to act 

So now I feed the rats crack 

Back and I'm statin the fact 

I know you're waitin for a rap 

To make you get up and start to clap 

For Bob, a Bronx Syndicate style 

More bounce to the ounce and trizzy to the file 

'79 the time I was inclined 

To get smooth and prove that I can rock a funk rhyme 

Hey yo, ice-cube chillin 

Cause we got the gats and knack to see the kids top billin 

Impressionalist, not a ventriloquist 

Don't hang out with suckers worth less than piss 

Suckers can all come kiss the tip 

Of my knob when I aim I don't miss 

Aim it to suckers that come around jockin 

On my tip when on the radio my recors be rockin 

Don't come frontin askin me for a pound 

You ain't invited means you simply ain't down 

Wake up it's time to be noticed 

I'ma do this, I'm gonna show this 

Beat to be mathematical 

Syndicate's in the house, let's get radical 

Bum rush the show and grab the mic 

Syndicate's chilllin out tonight 

They let me loose and now it's war 

let the rhymes roar 

Grab a partner and hit the dancefloor 

Cause I'm back to rock for you once more 

I don't worry about what he said or she said 

As long as what's said-said is done-done in my bed 

The Juvenile Committee's on my side 

And I'm kickin knowledge on a natural high 

And I'm feeling strong 

Yo, take this mic and get the party on 

This is mortal combat, there ain't no comeback 

You're tryin to get with me but you don't know where I'm at 

Cause in this world there's no bombs or guns 

Just a microphone, metaphors, words and puns 

Sentences and phrases, no clubs or razors 

No mercy for a sucker that wages 

War, I'll take the floor, even the score 

Grab the microphone and proceed to roar 

Are y'all set, all prepared to start 

Move in close cause here comes the dope part 

By the way, I'm the Taste, if tracks 

Could talk but they - but here go the facts 

Brace yourself, you shoulda grabbed a grip 

Protect your clan cause we're about to trip 

Bass reflex, the kicks that drive, divide 

The weak from the rest can't survive 

Syndicate's housin all competition 

We paralyze a physical powerful vision 

But savage ignorants pop that's ignorant listen 

Divine is no time for style 

And I rock your grey matter with a smile 

Cause I'm the rhyme thriller with dimensions of flavor 

The knack - stylistic black 

The reason we're bustin these raps are what? 

To make all you wack MC's shut up 

You're always buyin rap records jammin def beats 

Then dissin rap artists out in the streets 

You always say our jams are wack but yours'll be tight 

But you never been near a studio in your life 

You see, disrespect is your last resort 

You're like Howard [Name], you never played this sport 

But you're always talkin mess bout how it should be done 

And when we ask to hear your record you never made one 

So this message goes to amateurs and pros alike 

We're the MC's that cold be doggin the mic 

You may be good but there's no one better 

We rock you so cold, you need a cashmere sweater 

Fight dirty in the pit when combat is on 

We always attack before attacked upon 

Yeah, Rhyme Syndicate, we in here 

We tossin it up 

I got my man Everlast in the house 

Tossin it up, youknowwhatimsayin 

Kid Jazz and Bango couldn't be here 

But we gon' to' it up for them anyhow 

Wherever you are you're a star 

Rhyme Syndicate blowin up like napalm 

I got my man Chilly Dee deejayin on the set 

And the one and only DJ Evil-E, we in here 

Yo, we outta here like last year 

Rhyme Syndicate 

We gotta do it like the alphabet and a-b-c ya 

Yeah 

Everlast 

Everlast in full effect 

Where's my gold record? 

Where's my record? 

Where's my record? 

Divine Styler with Physical Poets, look out 

Microphone King Donald D the notorious, yeah 

This is Bronx Style Bob... 

Nat The Cat, boy 

Randy Mac 

One in a million on your back, boy 

Yo 

So we bout to get outta here 

Seems like the police is outside, man 

(Yo Ice, man, they got King Tee, Aladdin and Islam) 

What, the police, man? 

I knew somethin had happened 

I was wonderin why King Tee missed the party, man 

Yo Randy Mac, you got some money? 

(Aw, you know what time it is, man 

I got...) 

Yeah, for some bail, buddy 

We got to go do some work, man...