Lyrical Breakdown of O.G. Original Gangster - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "O.G. Original Gangster" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

Lyric Overview: Witness how Ice-T weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "O.G. Original Gangster" is a testament to masterful songwriting.
Rhyme and Rhythm Analysis: Our Lazyjot editor highlights the ingenious use of multi-syllabic rhymes and the rhythm pattern that Ice-T employs. Understand the construction of each verse and how it contributes to the song's overall impact.
Syllable Pattern Insights: Dive deeper into the structural elements of the lyrics. See how the syllable count varies across the song, adding a unique rhythm and flow to Ice-T's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "O.G. Original Gangster" not only celebrates Ice-T's artistic prowess but also serves as an educational tool for aspiring songwriters. If this analysis inspires you and you'd like to see your own songs analyzed in this way, join the Lazyjot community. Register at Lazyjot and start exploring the full potential of your lyrical creativity. Turn your thoughts into rhymes and your rhymes into songs with Lazyjot!

Ten years ago

I used to listen to rappers flow

Talkin' bout the way

They rocked the mic at the disco

I liked how that shit was goin' down

Dreamt about ripping the mic with my own sound

So I tried to write rhymes

Somethin' like them, my boys said

"That ain't you Ice

That shit sounds like them."

So I sat back, thought up a new track

Didn'T fantasize, kicked the pure

Facts. Motherfuckers got scared

Cause they weas unprepaired

Who would tell it how it relly was?

Who dared?

A motherfucker from the West Coast

L.A. South Central fool

Where the Crips and the Bloods play

When I wrote about parties

It didn't fit

Six in the Mornin'

That was the real shit

O.G. Original Gangster

When I wrote about parties

Someone always died

When I tried to write happy

Yo I knew I lied, I lived a life of crime

Why play ya blind?

A simple look

And anyone with two cents

Would know I'm

A hardcore player fromhe streets

Rappin' bout hardcore topics

Over hardcore drum beats

A little different

Than the average though

Jet you thru the fast lane

Drop ya on death row

Cause anybody who's been there

Knows that life ain't sho lovely

On the blood-soaked fast track

That invincible shit don't work

Throw ya in a joint

You'll be comin' out feet first

So I blst the mic with my style

Sometimes I'm ill

The other times buck wild

But the science is always there

I'd be a true sucker

If I acted like I didn'T care

I rap for brothers just like myself

Dazed by the game

In a quest for extreme wealth

But I kick it to you hard and real

One wrong move, and you caps peeled

I ain't no super hero

I ain't no Marvel Comic

But when it comes to game I'm atomic

At droppin' it straight

Point blank and untwisted

No imagination needed, cause I lived it

This ain't no fuckin' joke

This shit is real to me

I'm Ice-T

O.G. Original Gangster

Two weeks ago I was out at the disco

Two brothers stepped up to me

And said

"Hey yo, Ice

We don't think you're down

What set ya claimin'?"

E drew the Glock, yo my set's aimin'!

Dumb motherfucker

Try to roll on me, please!

I'm protected by a thousand emcees

And hoodlums and hustlers

And bangers with Jeri curls

We won't even count the girls

Cause they got my back

And I got theirs too

Fight for the streets

When I'm on Oprah or Donahue

They try to sweat a nigga

But they just didn'T figure

What my wit's as quick as a hair trigger

"He's not your everyday-type

Prankster."

I'm Ice-T, the original gangster

So step to me

If you think that you're ready to

Got on your bullet proof?

Well mine's goin' right thru

This ain't no game to me

It's hollow fame to me

Without respect frome streets

So I don't claim be

The hardest motherfucker on earth

Catch me slippin, I can even get worked

But I don'T slip that often

There's a coffin

Waitin' for the brother

Who comes off soft when

The real fuckin' shit goes down

Take a look around

All them pussies can be found

They talk a mean fight

But fight like hoes

I'm from South Central, fool

Where everything goes

Snatch you out your car so fast

You'll get whiplash

Numbers on your roof top

For when the copters pass

Gang bangers

Don't carry no switch blades

Every kid's got a Tec 9 or a

Hand grenade

Thirty-seven killed

Last week in a crack war

Hostges tied up

And shot in a liquor store

Nobody gives a fuck

"The children have to go to school."

Well, moms, good luck

Cause the shit's fucked up bad

I use my pad and pen

And my lyrics break out mad

I try to write about fun

Andthe goodtimes

But the pen yanks away and explodes

And destroys the rhyme

Maybe it's just cause of where I'm from

L.A. that was a shot gun!

O.G. Original Gangster