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Played Like a Piano (feat. Ice Cube, Mc Breeze)

Some cool shit for the King's anthology

And when I'm done, don't expect no apology

Stupid motherfuckers shoulda stepped when I warned 'em

I'm from the Boondocks of Compton, California

I'm just anxious to whoop some ass

I went to high school, but I flunked every class

So what makes you think I give a fuck about respect?

I'll put your bitch in check, and I'll bet

You won't run up, son of a punk and a bitch, too

I shoulda did a drive by on you and your crew

Cuz ya'll be poppin' some shit that's unheard of

For you, what's the word? Uh (wack!) it's murder, son

When I be crushin' your hood with a passion

And I ain't talkin' that Action Jackson

When I come you better run for ammo

Or get played like a fuckin' pianoAnd yo, we got my homeboy Ice Cube in the house from the motherfuckin'

Lench Mob (what's up, nigga?), and yo Ice Cube, I heard you're a singer now

Man what's up? Yo, yoDo-Ray-Me. But I don't sing, mothafucker

I kick shit with the King, mothafucker

Ice Cube will clock the cash, rock the mass

And if you run up, I'll sock your ass

And watch that eye get swollen

Cuz I'm playin' punk niggas like Beethoven

So bust a cap or swing and die

Fuck Yul Brynner, it's still The King and I

Cuz where I'm from the sun don't shine

So One-Time hope I only bust one rhyme

But I bust one more for the suckers

Last year I was Ruthless, now I'm Lenchin' mothafuckers

And you'll see in a tree, MCs and crews

Now they're lookin' for me, King Tee, and Pooh

Now every nigga that crossed me's soprano

Cuz I played their ass like a fuckin' pianoYo, check this out, we got my homeboy Breeze in the

Motherfuckin' house from the L.A. Posse

and he got some shit to holler

Come

On, man, bust this shitWell, I'm-a take the mic like it was a jack move

Run with the beat as long as the track moves

Hot as lava, organized like a seminar

Serve you, your crew, him, and them and a

Couple of rap-saps who think they can get butt

You slipped and shit, so nitwit, just get the nuts

Stealin' your high hopes, watchin' you write notes

Better walk a chalk line, not fuckin' a tightrope

Rap slicker, thicker, quicker than others, then I stop swift

Shift from 1st to 5th, while you stop to shoplift

Take the mic stand whenever the duty calls

If I bust a nut for every rhyme I had, I'd get blue balls

Serious as drama, I'm-a watch her say "Me too."

You're shorter than Michu, your rhymes are see-through

You're nothin' like GQ, transparent, I made it apparent

I'm here to wax and tax the incoherent

Cuz B-R-E-E-Z-E will eas-i-ly re-main to be-e a top MC

When you see me, I wear a beanie, and not a Kangol

Now you got played, like a fuckin' pianoThis is just a sample of three black nig-roes

Who grew up in the heart of the ghetto

Doin' what we had to just to make ends meet

Some steal for a livin', some stand on the street

Just slang. Some gang-bang, but big deal

They say in Compton, you gotta kill or get killed

Mothafuckin' police pull ya over, slam ya down

Then tell ya that your hood is their town

And I ain't goin' for no shit like that;

Cuff me up, take me to jail, I'll come back

Talkin' much shit, cuz I talk what the fuck I feel

A few weeks in the county ain't no big deal

So a punk like you can't fuck with me

That big ballin'-ass nigga named King Tee

You think ya can? I don't think that you can, though

Peace to Ice Cube and Breeze, and the fuckin' piano

Songwriters

JORDAN, MARK S/MC BRIDE, ROGER (KING TEE)Published by

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

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