One, two
Check, one, two
One, two, who got more style than Son do?
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, niggas
Little kids, scared cops with red dots
Philosophical gangsta, where violent priors
Goin' back like black and white TV's with pliers
Leanin' on broke down cars with flat tires
Flash iron on anybody tryin' on the blocks I'm supplyin' on
Madicon, my peeps, tie balloons up
Then swallow 'em in 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
Martyr, hood haunted like the Dakota
Where John Lennon was shot up, but he sang for peace
He begged for freedom, hanged with 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

The thief's theme, play me at night, they won't act right
Understandable smooth shit that murderers move with
The thief's theme, play me at night, they won't act right
Understandable smooth shit that murderers move with
The thief's theme, play me at night, they won't act right
Understandable smooth shit that murderers move with
The thief's theme, play me at night, they won't act right
Understandable smooth shit that murderers move with

I take summers off 'cause I love winter beef
Started '87 with the shotty in the sheep
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
Woolrich, Carhart, gun powder stains
Smellin' like trees, sensimille on the brain
Schemin' on ya girls, bamboos 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
Deaf crack fiends, who can't speak, scream noises
'Cause she bought a jum of soap from one of my boys, it's
Just another day in the hood
And I'm, with 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, while my man Nino gone
And I had to make a song speakin' on my old life
For the thief's who come out at night

The thief's theme, play me at night, they won't act right
Understandable smooth shit that murderers move with
The thief's theme, play me at night, they won't act right
Understandable smooth shit that murderers move with
The thief's theme, play me at night, they won't act right
Understandable smooth shit that murderers move with
The thief's theme, play me at night, they won't act right
Understandable smooth shit that murderers move with

One, two
Check, one, two
One, two
One, two
Check, one, two
One, two, who got more style than Son do?

Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Douglas Ingle, Nasir Jones, Salaam Remi