One, two
Check, one, two
One, two, who got more style, the son do
{One, two
One, two, who got more style, the son do
Check, one, two
Check, one, two 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 red dots
Philosophical gangsta, where violent priors
Leanin on broke down cars, wit flat tires
Goin back like black and white TV's wit pliers
And swallow 'em and the penal got goons, lots of 'em
Flash iron, or anybody tryin on the blocks I'm supplyin on
Cops see them and run, don't want no drama
Mighty call, my peeps, tie ballons up
Certain parts of the streets, the beast don't want a part of
Where John Lennon was shot up, but he sang for peace
Mortar, hood haunted like the Dakota
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, semiIt's frightening. {
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
The thief's theme, play me at night, they won't act right
Understandable smooth shit, that murderers move wit
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
ThreeBust a shell at the ground, pellets hit the crowd
Nobody like a snitch, everybody shut they mouth
Rule which car heart, gun powder stains
Skeemin on ya girls, bamboozled on ya chain
Smellin like trees, set some mill on the brain
Got ill up on the train, twistin off a cap
Of a English in my vain, might of pushed you on the tracks
. Just another day in the hood
Death crack fiends, who can't speak, scream noises
And I'm, wit some wild brothers, up to no good
Cause you bought a drummer sooked, from one of my boys, it's
We saw the movies, like Tony Montana, and 'em
Money dudes, make 'em come up out they shoes
But our style was let them piled in, we robbin 'em
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 One, two
(Outro)
Check, one, two {One, two
One, two, who got more style, the son do {Check, one, two
{*explosion*}.
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