A child was born in the east one day
Moved to the west coast after his parents passed away
Never understood his fascination with rhymes or beats
In poetry, he was considered elite
Became a young gangster in the streets of L. A
Lost connections with his true roots far away
But no matter the job or crime
He never lost his hardcore obsession to rhyme
New Yorks hip hop movement broke loose
D. J’s cut records, raps had the juice
Since busting rhymes was his natural thing
He was crowned the west coast M. C. King
But after his inauguration there was a rush
Of wack rappers with one intention to crush
This master rapper and take his throne
A simple job, he had no crew, he stood all alone
Assassins came in groups of one through five
With raps no mortal M. C. Could survive
But he shoved no mercy, he rapped blood thirsty
Battlin’ from Friday on through to Thursday
Never losing a bout, never ending in doubt
Every confrontation K. O. Knock out!
On his never ending journey to the T-O-P
The L. A player, M. C. Ice-T
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