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Party!(Okay party people in the house) Yo yo, in the place to beMy name is MC Ice-TI got the Rhyme Syndicate with meWe about to tear stuff up, y'all feel good?Yo, what the hell y'all wanna do, Syndicate, tonight, what you wanna do? (Party!)Randy Mac in the place to be, what you wanna do? (Party!)Nat The Cat, you're in the house tonight, what you wanna do? (Party!)Donald-D is in the place to be, what you wanna do? (Party!)Bronx Style Bob is in the house, what you wanna do? (Party!)Hen-Gee is in the house, what you wanna do, homeboy? (Party!) My man Shaquel is in the place to be, what you wanna do? (Party!)Yo, Toddy Tee is in the house tonight, what you wanna do? (Party!)Yo, Everlast is in the house, come on, what you wanna do? (Party!)And MC Taste is in the place to be, what you wanna do? (Party!)My man Divine is in the house, what you wanna do, homeboy? (Party!)Yo yo, I'm about to kick this party up, is that alright?Yo, Yo, MC Ice on a Syndicate Rhyme spreeYou say you wanna be down, you gotta talk to meYou wanna get in? Put a sucker's head outSound a little hot for you, boy? Then, toy, get outSyndicate mob ain't nothin but hardened crooksSongtexteYou try to diss, your butt is on a meat hookWant some of me? You're on a missionBad move, you end up missinLet's get it straight for the '89 tipRandy Mac is clockin a stupid gripOn the party track I'm cold lampinBut when the Syndicate rolls I be jackinYou thought I fell off, I ain't even slippedThe Mac is cuttin records and punks are gettin rippedGangster I am, bust the lyrics like a drive-byYou wanna sleep? Well, it's lights out, beddy-byeNotorious Asiatic, tough, talentedA power entertainerCatapultin above the topNat The Cat, too swift to be stoppedI'm like Jordan, a team player on a solo flightLookin down on MC's faces full of fright and fearI slam dunk a rap through their ear to hearHeureka! I just struck a platinum fameIn the game things'll never be the sameBecause money changes everythingOnce again comin at you hyperDonald D the Syndicate SniperBoston Strangler, Charles MansonNo matter what killer I mention, keep dancinFive Fingers Of Death, Fists Of FurySt. Valentine's Day Massacre on a juryWanna convict me for kickin black on waxI walk the street with a battle axeLife ain't nothin but a piece of existenceCause when you die, you'se a past tenseSo I like to live my life like a big carnivalGet drunk, act like an animalI like the rock'n rolll, the funk, the jazz and hip-hopSuckers get loud, I drop emI like I'm Bronx Bob, bring the beats and I'mBlack stallion, knockin on concrete wallsStandin tall, rappers in my face, they stallStutter, softer than melted butterThere's no other word, go ask your motherHard solid as your city Born in Brooklyn, can tell by the way that I walk and talkStrollin with a slight limpFlyer than any big city pimpGold, girls, cold cashOn the mic Shaquel ShabazzSupreme, the Lord, the G-o-dDown with the Syndicate posseIt's you we rule without a toolMathematics in effect, it's time to schoolI'm the principal and knowledge is the keyShaquel in the place to beI climb a mountain top with just one ropeGet to the top of the stairs and say a rhyme that's dopeCause I'm a cliffhanger, no, I ain't a strangerYo, I'm Toddy Tee, and I'm a Compton bangerWanted by the F.B.I. for transport ofSucker MC's across the Syndicate bordersNo, they can't give me no time, cause it's my rhymeEverlast, get funky for me one timeEverlast is in effect gettin big respectThen I collect big checks1's, 5's, 10's and 20'sA 100 g's and I'm pullin honeysLeft and right, day and nightYou gotta see it to believe it, it's quite a sightThey're all on the tip to get a sipOf this poetic performer that's fully equippedY'all played yourselves right in front of the micMoved your body so that the feelin was rightBut if you get lost scream out and admitThat the beat's too fast, slow it down or I quitI'm not the kind to give you a callTo stop on a rap that I lead, so I pauseI give you 5, 4, 3, 2, 1If that ain't enough, sit down till we're doneSyndicate scorned, you act obedientTired of your fish rhyme ingredientsBlack on black while styles of brothers that's gotta beCirclin cyphers into moleculesTakin over your space, that's illogicalThe vocal chords on a board with 24 tracksGet away from the break gotta rapSyndicate posse growin, goin out of controlYou say we're weak? This record's shippin goldPower, strength, my posse got unityWe stick together and we're soon to beIn your town, we gonna bring the roof downIce-T and the syndicate undergroundNo selll-outs, cause it's caps we peelinGirls we love em, and shows we steal emKnowledge and wisdom, it's a mysteryI drop science for the ones who know it's meYou say I'm dope, cool, it makes senseI ain't conceited, I'm just convincedStrapped for the attack Randy Mac is rollinThe mic, the mixer, then the show is stolenThe pimp, the player, hustler kickerWatch your girl, cause I stick herNat The Cat, my man will rap when I'm playin the backSome think my stage presence is low, I think it's loudEnough to see me flowin and showinGo psycho breakin backs like boloGive me the mic, a metamorphis igniteI break down on a cat stand, I kill ya like a hitmanAnd come out kickin with the Rockin on a rappin rampageIn control of the stageThere's a mouse in my house, so I bought a catThe cat ran away, cause now there's a ratI'm on the attack with my baseball batThat one rap brought many of us backAll through my house I set up trapsIt seem like the rats have a mapBut nowadays I don't know how to actSo now I feed the rats crackBack and I'm statin the factI know you're waitin for a rapTo make you get up and start to clapFor Bob, a Bronx Syndicate styleMore bounce to the ounce and trizzy to the file'79 the time I was inclinedTo get smooth and prove that I can rock a funk rhymeHey yo, ice-cube chillinCause we got the gats and knack to see the kids top billinImpressionalist, not a ventriloquistDon't hang out with suckers worth less than pissSuckers can all come kiss the tipOf my knob when I aim I don't missAim it to suckers that come around jockinOn my tip when on the radio my recors be rockinDon't come frontin askin me for a poundYou ain't invited means you simply ain't downWake up it's time to be noticedI'ma do this, I'm gonna show thisBeat to be mathematicalSyndicate's in the house, let's get radicalBum rush the show and grab the micSyndicate's chilllin out tonightThey let me loose and now it's war let the rhymes roarGrab a partner and hit the dancefloorCause I'm back to rock for you once moreI don't worry about what he said or she saidAs long as what's said-said is done-done in my bedThe Juvenile Committee's on my sideAnd I'm kickin knowledge on a natural highAnd I'm feeling strongYo, take this mic and get the party onThis is mortal combat, there ain't no comebackYou're tryin to get with me but you don't know where I'm atCause in this world there's no bombs or gunsJust a microphone, metaphors, words and punsSentences and phrases, no clubs or razorsNo mercy for a sucker that wagesWar, I'll take the floor, even the scoreGrab the microphone and proceed to roarAre y'all set, all prepared to startMove in close cause here comes the dope partBy the way, I'm the Taste, if tracksCould talk but they - but here go the factsBrace yourself, you shoulda grabbed a gripProtect your clan cause we're about to tripBass reflex, the kicks that drive, divideThe weak from the rest can't surviveSyndicate's housin all competitionWe paralyze a physical powerful visionBut savage ignorants pop that's ignorant listenDivine is no time for styleAnd I rock your grey matter with a smileCause I'm the rhyme thriller with dimensions of flavorThe knack - stylistic blackThe reason we're bustin these raps are what?To make all you wack MC's shut upYou're always buyin rap records jammin def beatsThen dissin rap artists out in the streetsYou always say our jams are wack but yours'll be tightBut you never been near a studio in your lifeYou see, disrespect is your last resortYou're like Howard [Name], you never played this sportBut you're always talkin mess bout how it should be doneAnd when we ask to hear your record you never made oneSo this message goes to amateurs and pros alikeWe're the MC's that cold be doggin the micYou may be good but there's no one betterWe rock you so cold, you need a cashmere sweaterFight dirty in the pit when combat is onWe always attack before attacked uponYeah, Rhyme Syndicate, we in hereWe tossin it upI got my man Everlast in the houseTossin it up, youknowwhatimsayinKid Jazz and Bango couldn't be hereBut we gon' to' it up for them anyhowWherever you are you're a starRhyme Syndicate blowin up like napalmI got my man Chilly Dee deejayin on the setAnd the one and only DJ Evil-E, we in hereYo, we outta here like last yearRhyme SyndicateWe gotta do it like the alphabet and a-b-c yaYeahEverlastEverlast in full effectWhere's my gold record?Where's my record?Where's my record?Divine Styler with Physical Poets, look outMicrophone King Donald D the notorious, yeahThis is Bronx Style Bob...Nat The Cat, boyRandy MacOne in a million on your back, boyYoSo we bout to get outta hereSeems like the police is outside, man(Yo Ice, man, they got King Tee, Aladdin and Islam)What, the police, man?I knew somethin had happenedI was wonderin why King Tee missed the party, manYo Randy Mac, you got some money?(Aw, you know what time it is, manI got...)Yeah, for some bail, buddyWe got to go do some work, man... 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