Nas - Thief's Theme lyrics
Nas [Nasir bin Olu Dara Jones] Brooklyn, NYC, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Nas - Thief's Theme lyrics]
One, two check, one, two
One, two, who got more style, the son do
One, two check, one, two
One, two, who got more style, the 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, with violent priors
Going back like black and
White TVs with pliers
Leaning on broke down cars with flat tires
Flash iron on anybody trying on
The blocks I'm supplying 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 with wild Jamicians
From Kingston, who drink Irish Moss
Listening to Peter Winston, Machintosh
Lightning hit's the top of the church steeple
When I'm writing, 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
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
Smelling like trees, sensimille on the brain
Scheming on your girls, bamboos on your chain
Got ill up on the train
Twisting off a cap of a English in my vein
Might've 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 pile
Then we robbin 'em
Money dudes, make 'em come up out they shoes
Run they jewels, word is bond
Where my man Nino going
And I had to make a song
Speaking on my old life
For the thieves who come out at night
One, two check, one, two
One, two check, one, two
One, two, who got more style, the son do
One, two, who got more style, the son do
One, two check, one, two
One, two, who got more style, the 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, with violent priors
Going back like black and
White TVs with pliers
Leaning on broke down cars with flat tires
Flash iron on anybody trying on
The blocks I'm supplying 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 with wild Jamicians
From Kingston, who drink Irish Moss
Listening to Peter Winston, Machintosh
Lightning hit's the top of the church steeple
When I'm writing, 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
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
Smelling like trees, sensimille on the brain
Scheming on your girls, bamboos on your chain
Got ill up on the train
Twisting off a cap of a English in my vein
Might've 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 pile
Then we robbin 'em
Money dudes, make 'em come up out they shoes
Run they jewels, word is bond
Where my man Nino going
And I had to make a song
Speaking on my old life
For the thieves who come out at night
One, two check, one, two
One, two check, one, two
One, two, who got more style, the son do