| 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 |