[Intro]
One, two
Check, one, two
One, two, who got more style, the son do
{*rewind*}
One, two
Check, one, two
One, two, who got more style, the son do
Check, one, two
[Verse 1]
Yo I'm hot like 95 Fahrenheit
On a summer night, tight spot where bodies rot
Rats drink from water drops, in the streets n***as
Little kids scared cops, wit red dots
Philosophical gangsta, wit violent priors
Goin' back like black and white TV's wit pliers
Leanin' on broke down cars, wit flat tires
Flash iron, anybody tryin' on, the blocks I'm supplyin' on
Madicon, my peeps, tie ballons up
And swallow 'em and the P now got goons, lots of 'em
Cops see them and run, don't want no drama
Certain parts of the streets, the beast don't want a part of
Martyr, hood haunted like the Dakota
Where John Lennon was shot up, but he sang for peace
He begged for freedom, hanged wit wild Jamicians
From Kingston, who drink Irish Malts
Listenin to Peter Winston, Machintosh
Lightning hits the top of the church steeple
When I'm writin', semi-automatic no hyphen
It's frightening.... {*scratches*}
[Hook]
The thief's theme, play me at night, they won't act right
Understandable smooth sh**, that murderers move wit
The thief's theme, play me at night, they won't act right
Understandable smooth sh**, that murderers move wit
The thief's theme, play me at night, they won't act right
Understandable smooth sh**, that murderers move wit
The thief's theme, play me at night, they won't act right
Understandable smooth sh**, that murderers move wit
[Verse 2]
I take summers off, cause I love winter beef
Started '87, wit the shotty in the sheep
Three-quarter length beige, dressed to k**
Bust a shell at the ground, pellets hit the crowd
Nobody like a snitch, everybody shut they mouth
Woolrich, Carhartt, gun powder stains
Smellin' like trees, sensimille on the brain
Skeemin' on ya girls, bambooze or ya chain
Got ill up on the train, twistin' off a cap
Of a English in my vain, might of pushed you on the tracks
Deaf crack fiends, who can't speak, scream noises
Cause she bought a jum of soap, from one of my boys and, it's
.... Just another day in the hood
And I'm, wit some wild brothers, up to no good
We saw the movies, like Tony Montana, and 'em
But our style was let them pile then, we robbin' 'em
Money dudes, make 'em come up out they shoes
Run they j**els, word is bond, where my man Nino goin'
And I had to make a song, speakin on my old life
For the thief's who come out at night
[Hook]
[Outro]
One, two
Check, one, two {*echoes*}
One, two
Check, one, two
One, two, who got more style, the son do {*echoes*}
{*explosion*}