Ice on Ice

Mr. T's Hollywood holiday

by Josh Kun

Ice-T has been in the Army and in gangs. He has pimped and hustled and breakdanced. He has recorded seven albums. He has acted in more than 30 films, including last year's Leprechaun 5: In the Hood. A few weeks ago, I was asked by a national music magazine to have lunch with Ice and Kool Keith and the rest of the MCs who make up Ice's latest project, Analog Brothers (whose debut CD comes out on Nu Gruv this Tuesday), at Johnny Rocket's on Melrose in LA. Analog Brothers finds Kool Keith adopting yet another alias -- Keith Korg -- on a recording excursion with producers Rex Roland JX3P, Mark Moog, and Silver Synth that celebrates everything analog and finds the O.G. dropping some sci-fi-themed verse. In person, though, Ice T's still the O.G. pimp he was when he first burst on the scene in the '80s. Everyone was late for the interview but Ice.

1:15 p.m.: "You know, at first they couldn't get me to do the group. I was like, `I ain't really fuckin' with groups.' I've drawn a limit in my life for what I'm gonna do from here on out. I'm 42 years old. I been rapping since I was 23. I'm not gonna help you, man, if it's gonna bring me any problems. I'm like 15 fucking years from fifty-fuckin'-seven. I'm not fuckin' around. I'm tryin' to fuck young girls. I'm having a good time at this point. I know what makes me happy. I'm not retired, but mentally retired. I know how to eliminate stress. I'm prioritizing.

"Now if you got a record finished, mixed, mastered, done -- now you talking a different thing to me. That's not that much work. But living out an album with an artist? I'm going to the beach, man. You gonna call me everyday and I'm a be at the beach. I found out from the movie game -- see, movies is like cookin fries. You walk in there, they say, `Read this,' they tell you where to stand, they tell you what to do, you knock it out, you get a check, it's guaranteed. Records you spend a lot of time and guts on them and they don't sell. So you got a year and six months of your life gamblin'. Whereas with a movie, you say, `Ice, wanna do a movie?' I'm like, `Yeah.' You say, ``I'm gonna give you 25 thousand a day,' I'm there. But with a record, it's like, believe, feel, sweat, live -- it didn't come out, it flopped, we're fucked."

1:20 p.m.: Ice's cell rings. He checks caller ID and rolls his eyes. "This bitch! Why the fuck she keep callin' me? It's like a bitch who got a head job connected to a charge. She'll suck your dick, but after that, she need something. She like, `You know I have my rent to pay.' It's not even worth the head. I don't need her, I let the welfare feed her. My millennium resolution is no stress. I'm trying to become, like, peaceful, placid."

A blonde woman with a British accent approaches Ice. "Excuse me, I don't mean to disturb you, you're Ice T, aren't you? Can I have my photograph with you?"

"Yes, please. Where you from?"

"England."

"C'mon, England woman."

"I heard your voice. I recognize your voice."

"Yeah, I got a distinctive voice. It's below the audible level. It's like a sub."

2:00 p.m.: Ice describes the difference between space ho's and earth ho's. "Space ho's can't be pimped cause they in space. So when we see a space ho', we just let them drift back into whatever solar system they come from. Some bitches are space ho's and I be like, `Whoa, this bitch is a space bitch.' Only space pimps can pimp space ho's. You gotta know if the bitch even has a programmable chip in her. I only pimp fine bitches, only dime pieces. 'Cause only a dime piece can really believe that I got love for her. Ghetto ho's look at me and be like, `No way on earth this nigga Ice wants me.' So I don't even waste time throwing my mack at a bitch, cause a bitch has to be of a certain caliber to even believe that I'm interested. That leaves me with the fine ho's. And that's hard pimpin' right there. Real hard pimpin'. Tying to get money out of me, that's like trying to pour cement through a soda straw, bitch. You ain't gettin' it. It ain't gonna work. Hold everything . . .

A woman on the street to Ice: "Tell H. that M. said hi!"

Ice to woman: "H.? Oh, H.! M., you're so fly."

Then Ice to me: "If she knows H., that means she's a dancer. Let me call H. That's what you do when ho's try to play you like that."

He dials on his cell and gets voice mail. "Hey baby, what's up? This Ice. I was just on the street here at Johnny Rocket's and I seen an Asian chick and she said, `Tell H., M. said hi.' She was on some other shit. You probably know who she is. But she dashed on me in a B12. What's up with her? Tell her she got a bow down to a playa. But I love you baby, I'm out."