3rd Ba** - 3rd Ba** Theme aka Portrait of the Artist as a Hood Remix lyrics

Today I'm prepared to bring specific charges Against certain members working in an industry That reaches into every household in the country [Verse One: Pete Nice] Hoods is up so sk**s is up It's a stick-up, so why'd you interrupt? So such bust material cerebral I'm eatin' cereal with spoons sippin' Cepacol Daddy-O slipped me some cause my breath stank White gold, but no accounts in Swiss banks Think tanks once rolled on the city streets I used to meet your moms between the sheets Universe is versus hoods prospectus True flam, flammin' words on wax discus So they dismiss this as vulgarity And once laughed and pointed at the university Some perk without sk**s and push a pen I send surreal scenes where you never been Looked out, gave you three strikes, you struck out Pop sh** with the 3rd, knock your fronts out Blew your blunts out you wings stuck up your a** Ga**ed you up then slap you with my staff I seen your skins like to go to the motels But your a** won't know to the hotels Cause a lip is zipped, I paint pictures A portrait, a self far from tipsters My discussion of impression ain't ignorance So don't label the hoods on appearances You never thought that a gangster could talk sense But this artifice flipped, your beans is spent Took your papes out your pocket and just stood out The focus, the portrait of the artist as a hoods-up [Verse Two: MC Serch] [Portrait painted back in the days Young strays, posted at the L.Q. on Fridays](1352505) Waitin' for Dice to give the go ahead Hawkin' 50 cent, puttin' heads to bed [For a herringbone hear the tune of the Audio Two Milk was chillin' as I chilled in the back room](1352542) Listen to snaps, cuts by Scoob and Scrap Union Square, to tear up the KRS tracks Torn up by the Kent, the Clark Dark As the brothers try to spark We knocked boots, and the boots got knocked Three A.M. and it was off to The Rooftop Hip-Hop Starski, the Masters of Ceremony Ka-ka-cracked out, was hookin' property Five A.M. it was the S&S A hundred and forty-fifth street, down on Lennox Starchild made all the hoes squeal For a dollar crackheads Armor-Alled your wheels Whippin' home in the sunshine, fun time But now you can't find Clubs like this that kept the music in the street And pop rap couldn't get a dime to eat [Yo, they're makin' mills, but what about the hood? A parking lot, where the Latin Quarter stood!](1352618) [A landmark marked in the cranium But now I bring it back in front of packed stadiums](1352608) Picture painted with the goals and the good The portrait of an artist as a hood [Verse Three: Pete Nice] Inside straight, I got you figured for a trickster Serch got a list of ya'll so get the gist of this Melancholy move of mayhem manifest the moves over matters at hand Tried your best but you can't understand You like Art Garfunkel and eat spam I drive a YAC [??] with a stretch You drive an Edsel I'm taking turns and I twist 'em like a pretezel Nonfiction, three levels of diction Spits the hood in the face of the friction Lift the gate and let us split you like wood The portrait of the artist as a hood!