"Ice, Ice Baby" explained II

VERSE 2

For VERSE 1 explained, see here.

Now that the party is jumping

We are at a party now. And get ready because I am going to tell you what is about to happen because we are at a party that is jumping.

With the bass kicked in, the vegas are pumping

“Vegas” are speakers. They are pumping because the bass has kicked in. Also, as I had previously mentioned, the party we are at is jumping, in large part due to the fact that the speakers are pumping. Now get ready for what is about to happen as a result of these indisputable facts.

Quick to the point, to the point no fakin’

Okay, so nothing happened. But let’s move past that, because I would like to inform you of something: When I make a point, I am quick about it. I am to the point about making a point. Also, you can rest assured that I will not fake any point that I am trying to make, as that would defeat the purpose of the quickness with which I made said point. That’s the whole point.

I’m cooking MCs like a pound of bacon

If I am feeling particularly frisky during a rap battle, I will place my opposing MC in a giant frying pan and cook him. I will literally cook this person, with Crisco and everything, because, to my knowledge, “cook” is not slang for symbolically defeating another person lyrically or even physically. I will cook this MC with the same culinary techniques that I would use to cook a pound of bacon, which is a lot of bacon. I like bacon.

Burning them if they’re not quick and nimble

Indeed, if you are not quick and/or nimble enough to remove yourself from the gigantic frying pan I have placed you in, then yes –- you will indeed get burned. Such is the nature of being cooked like a pound of bacon.

I go crazy when I hear a cymbal

One time, at band camp, this kid clashed the cymbals at the end of our symphony and I totally flipped out. Started throwing instruments and stuff. I had to go home three weeks early. So yeah, you pretty much don’t want to mess with me around cymbals.

And a hi-hat, with a souped up tempo

Or a hi-hat with a souped up tempo. Many people believe that a hi-hat is merely a complimentary piece of musical equipment, unable to create and therefore sustain a souped-up tempo on its own merits. I, however, disagree. I once recorded an entire smooth jazz album using only a hi-hat and a pair of scissors.

I’m on a roll and its time to go solo

I have made the difficult decision to –- based on the obvious roll I am currently on lyrically –- to break away from the group “Vanilla Ice & The Ice Machines” and embark on a solo career. Fingers crossed!

Rollin in my 5.0

I have a car. And I am driving it right now. (We left the party. Did I mention that?)

With my ragtop down so my hair can blow.

I’m sorry. Have you seen my hair? It can do a lot of things, but blowing in the wind is not one of them. My hair actually stopped Hurricane Andrew. True story. I mean, yeah –- my hair blows figuratively, but still. Anyway, I didn’t write this line. Let’s move on.

The girlies on standby, waving just to say hi
{Did you stop?}


Who asked that? Seriously?

No –- I just drove by

I am so good at rapping that I cannot be bothered with attractive females that are interested in having sexual relations with me.

Kept on pursuing to the next stop

I am doing some serious pursuing right now. Exactly what I am pursuing is undetermined, but one can assume that I am pursuing more females that I can arrogantly and inexplicably drive past again.

I busted a left and I’m heading to the next block

I turned left. I was going to turn right, but I turned left instead. Isn’t this awesome?

The block was dead

On this particular block, nobody was around to watch me drive my car. I should have turned right. I am disappointed.

Yo –- so I continued to A1A, Beachfront Avenue

Beachfront Avenue is a popular street here in Miami. Its technical term is State Route A1A. I will go there.

Girls were hot wearing less than bikinis

We are now driving down Beachfront Avenue. The girls walking along this street are hot both figuratively and literally, as evidenced by the fact that they are wearing less than bikinis. Also, less than bikinis is naked. These girls are naked. I am going to drive past them.

rockman lovers driving Lamborghinis

There are people here who love men that rock. I call them the rockman lovers, obviously. Anyway, they are driving Lamborghinis.

Jealous ‘cause I’m out getting mine

These rockman lovers –- who are driving Lamborghinis –- are jealous of me and my 5.0 something or other. They are also jealous of me because I am out getting mine. I am out here with a purpose. What, exactly, I am getting is for me and only for me to know, but trust me -– I am going to get it. These rockman lovers, on the other hand, are just driving around like idiots.

Shay with a gauge and Vanilla with a nine

Did you guys meet Shay? He’s my friend. But watch out –- he is carrying a 12-gauge shotgun. And I have a 9-milimeter. These are weapons that I will undoubtedly use to get mine. This song has taken a violent turn.

Reading for the chumps on the wall

I am reading the wall for chumps. Oftentimes a helpful local will spray paint “Chumps over here!” on the wall with an arrow pointing downward in the direction of the chumps. That is what I am looking for. If I find any chumps, I am going to wax them.

The chumps are acting ill because they’re so full of eight balls

I found the chumps. They are acting ill, however, because of all the cocaine they have ingested. Because “ill” has positive connotations in hip-hop, I’ll leave it up to you to decide if the chumps are acting awesome, or if they are physically ill from all the drugs.

Gunshots rang out like a bell

People are shooting. If it’s the rockman lovers and I going to be pissed!

I grabbed my nine, all I heard were shells falling, on the concrete real fast

I do not even hear the gunshots. All I hear are the shells falling to the ground. Weird. And where the heck is Shay? Whatever. I have grabbed my gun, and it is on!

Jumped in my car, slammed on the gas

I changed my mind. Instead of becoming involved in this shootout, I am going to escape. I have jumped into the car I was already in and I have slammed on the gas pedal.

Bumper to bumper the avenue’s packed

I have caused an accident by slamming on the gas pedal in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

I’m trying to get away before the jackers jack

Those jackers are always jacking! Granted, even after I leave Beachfront Avenue I will be in my car, and thus, subject to a car-jacking. However, I am currently in an "extreme jacking zone," and I am trying to leave. This traffic is not helping. And now that I think about it, where would a jacker even go should he choose to jack in traffic? Still, I’m not taking any chances.

Police on the scene, ya’ know what I mean

The police are here, partly because of the accident I have just caused by slamming on the gas in bumper-to-bumper traffic, and partly because of the wild, wild west shootout that just randomly occurred. I am sure that my listening audience is all too familiar with dealing with the police in these situations. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

They passed me up, confronted all the dope fiends

Ignoring the accident, the fact that I am carrying a gun myself, and the fact that there was just an all-out gunfight in the middle of a crowded Miami street, the police pulled aside some crackheads and asked them where they got their crack from.

If there was a problem, yo I’ll solve it

Contrary to the array of problems I myself just endured –- none of which I was able to resolve, except by removing myself from the situation altogether -– I will definitely solve any other problems you can throw at me. Promise.

Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it

Again, enjoy the chorus. I have to call my car insurance company.


This stage isn't big enough for the two of us, Shay!

Comments

Judy said…
Oh my God! I'm trying so hard not to laugh out loud at work but the hair comment was just too much!! I can't wait for part III!
KrystiBelle said…
Will there ever be a part 3? :(
Mil Wuray said…
take some time off your hands and go to the gym ...