Emcee's no time out,it's time to rhyme out  You've dug your own grave,now you must climb out  Dig out,crawl out,hide from the fallout  'Cause when I get mad I go all out  ICE cooler than the coldest cube,dude  And when I'm micin',boy,I'm know to get rude  Criminal background,it's time to get down  I use a silencer,don't like the loud sound  Off my mic blast,you better run fast  The last punk that popped junk passed  Spit on his grave,laughed,jumped in my stretch  Signed his bitch an autograph  Syndicate boy,I don't fool out  You're full grown,school's out  You try to diss?..I think you better cool out  'Cause your butt is smoke,if we ever duel out  This jam is directed,to all of those who expected  For me to cold be rejected,but now I'm highly respected   And now their ears are infected  With dollar signs I've collected  Jealous punks,I said it!    Personal  Take a personal    Take it personal,punk,I'm talkin' to you  And if they agree with you,then your crew too  I never diss an emcee,I wish'em all good luck  But if you diss me to my face,duck  My style don't ramble,you shouldn't gamble  With your grill,I got a fist like an anvil  I write a record,lock it on the topic  EVIL and IZ dog the track,then we drop it  Record stores rock it,stock it,fans buy it  People that never heard of ICE-T try it  Then you try to diss? You got gall  I got gold on my neck and gold on my wall  Gold in my fingers,gold in my ear  When this jam's spinnin',gold's what you hear  Toy,this ain't Christimas,no time to play  I ain't no child,punk,you'll get sprayed  Illin' on a mega-villan  You must want a pine box to go chill in  Buried deep,creep,no one will weep  'Cause the next night with your bitch I'll sleep    Personal  Take it personal    I ain't East Coast,West Coast,new style,or old style  You wanna know about me? Check police files  Get out my face or you might have a bruised one  Brass knuckle prints? Yes,I used some  I ain't here to boast,I don't do that  When I talk it's straight dope,pure facts  I rock hard but still called a new jack  But talk shit,you're sure to get heard cracked  I don't drink or smoke or do dumb drugs  But my posse's still labeled street thugs  L.A.P.D's got all my boy's mugs  Can't use my phone for the damn bugs  I live in privacy,don't like suckers hawking me  News reporters,some think they can talk for me  Lies,misquotes,changin' all my words around  But if I catch'em on the street they'll get beat down  They get money for hype-type publicity  They don't think twice,about dissin' me  But that's a mistake,with tha SYNDICATE you shoudn't mess  I hope those punk reporters wear vests!    Personal  Take that personal    Now the words I speak to some may sound radical  But I'll explain,it's simply mathematical  You diss,I diss,this is creates an equal  You reply to my diss,this is called a sequel  I reply to your diss,this is called a battle  Not intelligent,not very adult  So I don't battle,I just put heads out  A straight line is always the direct route  I write lyrics clear,to leave no doubt  Don't even have to say who I'm speakin' about  You know who you are,you just jealous  'Cause you hear my records are million sellers  Try to say I'm wack,out on the streets  While your whole crew is jockin' my beats  See me on T.V. and in the papers  See me at a jam,and catch vapors!    Personal