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 York's hip hop movement broke loose   DJ's cut records, raps had the juice   Since busting rhymes was his natural thing   He was crowned the west coast MC 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 MC could survive   But he showed no mercy, he rapped blood thirsty   Battling from Friday on through to Thursday      Never losin', about 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