A 1990 West Coast posse cut featuring the newly-solo Ice Cube and MC Breeze from L.A. Posse.[Intro: King Tee]

King Tee's drunk again

Yo, check this out! Awww shit, aw shit

I wanna dedicate this song

To all them motherfuckers out there

That-that-that-that-that-that-that (not again)

Perpentratin'… perpetratin'… perpintratin'… wait, rewind

(But yo, King Tee, man, what is this? What is this?)

[Verse 1: King Tee]

Some cool shit for the King's anthology

And when I'm done, don't expect no apology

Stupid motherfucker shoulda stepped when I warned him

I'm from the Boondocks of Compton, California

I'm just anxious to whoop some ass

I went to high school, but I flunked every class

So what makes you think I give a fuck about respect?

I'll put your bitch in check, and I'll bet

You won't run up, son of a punk and a bitch, too

I shoulda did a drive-by on you and your crew

'Cause y'all be poppin' some shit that's unheard of

For you, what's the word? Uh… (wack!) — it's murder

Son, when I be crushin' your hood with a passion

And I ain't talkin' that Action Jackson

When I come, you better run for ammo

Or get played like a fuckin' piano

[Interlude: King Tee]

And yo, we got my homeboy Ice Cube in the house

From the motherfuckin' Lench Mob ('Sup, nigga?)

And yo, Ice Cube, I heard you're a singer now

Man, what's up? Yo, yo

[Verse 2: Ice Cube]

Doe-Rae-Me, but I don't sing, mothafucka

I kick shit with the King, mothafucka

Ice Cube will clock the cash, rock the mass

And if you run up, I'll sock your ass

And watch that eye get swollen

'Cause I'm playin' punk niggas like Beethoven

So bust a cap, or swing and die

Fuck Yul Brynner, it's still The King and I

'Cause where I'm from, the sun don't shine

So One-Time hope I only bust one rhyme

But I bust one mo' for the suckers

Last year I was ruthless, now I'm lynchin' mothafuckers

And you'll see in a tree, MC's and crews

Now they're lookin' for me, King Tee, and Pooh

Now every nigga that crossed me's soprano

'Cause I played their ass like a fuckin' piano

[Interlude: King Tee]

Yo, check this out

We got my homeboy Breeze in the motherfuckin' house

From the L.A. Posse, and he got some shit to holler

Come on, man, bust this shit!

[Verse 3: MC Breeze]

Well, I'ma take the mic like it was a jack move

Run with the beat as long as the track moves

Hot as lava, organized like a seminar

Serve you, your crew, him, and them and a

Couple of rap-saps who think they can get butt

You slipped and shit, so nitwit, just get the nuts

Stealin' your high hopes, watchin' you write notes

Better walk a chalk line, not fuckin' a tightrope

Rap slicker, thicker, quicker than others, then I stop swift

Shift from 1st to 5th, while you stop to shoplift

Take the mic stand whenever the duty calls

If I bust a nut for every rhyme I had, I'd get blue balls

Serious as drama, I'ma watch her say "Me too."

You're shorter than Michu, your rhymes are see-through

You're nothin' like GQ, transparent, I made it apparent

I'm here to wax and tax the incoherent

'Cause B-R-E-E-Z-E will eas-i-ly

Re-main to be-e a top MC

When you see me, I wear a beanie, and not a Kangol

Now you got played, like a fuckin' piano

[Verse 4: King Tee]

This is just a sample of three black nig-roes

Who grew up in the heart of the ghetto

Doin' what we had to just to make ends meet

Some steal for a livin', some stand on the street

Just slang; some gang-bang, but big deal

They say in Compton, you gotta kill or get killed

Mothafuckin' police pull you over, slam you down

Then tell you that your hood is their town

And I ain't goin' for no shit like that

Cuff me up, take me to jail, I'll come back

Talkin' much shit, 'cause I talk what the fuck I feel

A few weeks in the county ain't no big deal

So a punk like you can't fuck with me

That big ballin'-ass nigga named King Tee

You think you can? I don't think that you can, though

Peace to Ice Cube and Breeze and the fuckin' piano