| Disc 1 | ||||||
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| 1. |
| 3:10 | 
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[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 niggaz Little kids scared cops, wit bread dots Philosophical gangsta, where violent priors Goin' back like black and white TV's wit pliers Leanin' on broke down cars, wit flat tires Flash iron, or anybody tryin on the blocks I'm supplyin on Mighty call, my peeps, tie ballons up And swallow 'em and the penal 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 Mortar, 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 Moss 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*} [Chorus] The thief's theme, play me at night, they won't act right Understandable smooth shit, that murderers move wit The thief's theme, play me at night, they won't act right Understandable smooth shit, that murderers move wit The thief's theme, play me at night, they won't act right Understandable smooth shit, that murderers move wit The thief's theme, play me at night, they won't act right Understandable smooth shit, that murderers move wit [Verse 2] I take summers off, cause I love winter beef Started '87, wit the shotty in the sheet Three-quarter length beige, dressed to kill Bust a shell at the ground, pellets hit the crowd Nobody like a snitch, everybody shut they mouth Rule which car heart, gun powder stains Smellin' like trees, set some mill on the brain Skeemin' on ya girls, bamboozled on 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 Death crack fiends, who can't speak, scream noises 'Cause you bought a drummer sooked, from one of my boys, 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 piled in, we robbin 'em Money dudes, make 'em come up out they shoes Run they jewels, 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 [Chorus] [Outro] One, two Check, one, two {*echoes*} One, two Check, one, two One, two, who got more style, the son do {*echoes*} {*explosion*} |
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