Thirstin Howl, LoLife Founders
And to be a deck of eight, spit shine my throne
I make a cell, look like home
Suave wrath, and all that
Came home, wearin" corp craft
Stayed clean, started bidden as a baby
Sewed a Polo patch on my stay-greens
In the yard, don't matter who didn't like me
Wore Polo frames on my Riker's Island I.P.
Strip search - watch
Where you hide your ox when you butt naked in the box
Keep locked music, segregated housing units
Don't carry the icepick if you ain't gonna use it
Jail, manners, homemade, magnums
Where you thugs become homo madams
Robbed at random
In the court pins with me, sneakers my size you ran them
Handle beef by the pound, I ain't loud
I'll wait to stab you 'til we line up for chow
Thou shalt not steal but I - STOLE!
Ran up in Sac's with two gats that I - STOLE!
Snatch Kangols, bankrolls, gold - STOLE!
Crashed a car on the FDR that I - STOLE!
Sixty 'Lo hats, fifty slacks I - STOLE!
Always had a welfare ho that - STOLE!
The same day I came from jail I - STOLE!
On Park Ave. in a Jag I - STOLE!
Knocked out the guard by the door when we - STOLE!
We took a dollar van on the rush when we - STOLE!
Civilians cameras watch me but I still - STOLE!
See me on the train witcha chain I - STOLE!
In New York we - STOLE! New Jerz we - STOLE!
N.C. we - STOLE! Philly we - STOLE!
D.C. we - STOLE!
I'll break your jawbone
Got the fast hands; take all Guess and Polo we - STOLE!
Before drama, whatever we end this as
My pride ain't in my pocket, it's in this bag
Whether guns or pussy, I know when to pull out
My Puerto Rican hair never needed Nu Nile
If you could walk in my shoes, you could sleep in my grave
My Brooklyn style, Big Daddy Kane, Dana Dane
If I was jumped, by niggaz thirty deep
I'll grab one, and make sure they murder me
Only death is promised, as you know
But all my baby mothers, fightin' at the funeral
Keep the beef, in Brooklyn, for Biggie
If Ms. Wallace tell us we'll burn down our city!
Drank Old Gold, for breakfast, with disco
Timberland boots, bring back forty pillows
You not a thug or a murderer - murderer
Only a big baller - if you got a hernia!
It's bout the, dolla, it's not an, option
Too official to wear Troop or CapOne
Snatched by his throat, choked
Slapped Freddy Kruger, cause his sweater, wasn't 'Lo
Forty-two steep - sound like, thousand feet
Threw empty forty ounces off a, balcony
Understanding, knowledge, wisdom
Hold up Puerto Rican flags - in the name of Big Pun!
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Copy to Clipboard: Thirstin Howl, LoLife Founders
And to be a deck of eight, spit shine my throne
I make a cell, look like home
Suave wrath, and all that
Came home, wearin" corp craft
Stayed clean, started bidden as a baby
Sewed a Polo patch on my stay-greens
In the yard, don't matter who didn't like me
Wore Polo frames on my Riker's Island I.P.
Strip search - watch
Where you hide your ox when you butt naked in the box
Keep locked music, segregated housing units
Don't carry the icepick if you ain't gonna use it
Jail, manners, homemade, magnums
Where you thugs become homo madams
Robbed at random
In the court pins with me, sneakers my size you ran them
Handle beef by the pound, I ain't loud
I'll wait to stab you 'til we line up for chow
Thou shalt not steal but I - STOLE!
Ran up in Sac's with two gats that I - STOLE!
Snatch Kangols, bankrolls, gold - STOLE!
Crashed a car on the FDR that I - STOLE!
Sixty 'Lo hats, fifty slacks I - STOLE!
Always had a welfare ho that - STOLE!
The same day I came from jail I - STOLE!
On Park Ave. in a Jag I - STOLE!
Knocked out the guard by the door when we - STOLE!
We took a dollar van on the rush when we - STOLE!
Civilians cameras watch me but I still - STOLE!
See me on the train witcha chain I - STOLE!
In New York we - STOLE! New Jerz we - STOLE!
N.C. we - STOLE! Philly we - STOLE!
D.C. we - STOLE!
I'll break your jawbone
Got the fast hands; take all Guess and Polo we - STOLE!
Before drama, whatever we end this as
My pride ain't in my pocket, it's in this bag
Whether guns or pussy, I know when to pull out
My Puerto Rican hair never needed Nu Nile
If you could walk in my shoes, you could sleep in my grave
My Brooklyn style, Big Daddy Kane, Dana Dane
If I was jumped, by niggaz thirty deep
I'll grab one, and make sure they murder me
Only death is promised, as you know
But all my baby mothers, fightin' at the funeral
Keep the beef, in Brooklyn, for Biggie
If Ms. Wallace tell us we'll burn down our city!
Drank Old Gold, for breakfast, with disco
Timberland boots, bring back forty pillows
You not a thug or a murderer - murderer
Only a big baller - if you got a hernia!
It's bout the, dolla, it's not an, option
Too official to wear Troop or CapOne
Snatched by his throat, choked
Slapped Freddy Kruger, cause his sweater, wasn't 'Lo
Forty-two steep - sound like, thousand feet
Threw empty forty ounces off a, balcony
Understanding, knowledge, wisdom
Hold up Puerto Rican flags - in the name of Big Pun!
NEW LYRICS 
