Portrait Of The Artist As A Hood

Today I'm prepared to bring specific charges
 Against certain members working in an industry
 That reaches into every household in the country
 3rd Bass
 3rd Bass
 3rd Bass
 3rd Bass
 Hoods is up so skills 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 skills and push a pen
 I send surreal scenes where you never been
 Looked out, gave you three strikes, you struck out
 Pop shit with the 3rd, knock your fronts out
 Blew your blunts out you wings stuck up your ass
 Gassed you up then slap you with my staff
 I seen your skins like to go to the motels
 But your ass won't know to the hotels
 'Cause a lip is zipped, I paint pictures
 A portrait, a self far from [Incomprehensible]
 My discussion of impression ain't ignorance
 So don't label the hoods on appearances
 You never thought that a gangsta 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
 3rd Bass
 3rd Bass
 3rd Bass
 3rd Bass
 Portrait planned it back in the days
 Young strays, posted at the L.Q. on Friday's
 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
 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 star ski, the masters of ceremony
 Ka-ka-cracked out, was hookin' property
 Five a.m. it was the S and S
 A hundred and forty-fifth street, down on Lennox
 Star child made all the hoes squeal
 For a dollar crack heads 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
 A landmark marked in the cranium
 But now I bring it back in front of packed stadiums
 Picture painted with the goals and the good
 The portrait of an artist as a hood
 3rd Bass
 3rd Bass
 3rd Bass
 3rd Bass
 3rd Bass
 3rd Bass
 Yo Pete man, yo where the hoods at Pete?
 Yo the hoods is in Brooklyn, Queens, Bronx
 Money-makin' strong island
 Yo can't forget Newark New Jersey
 Philly, D.C
 From Detroit to mobile Alabama
 Memphis Tennesse Cleveland
 Yo, money-makin' Miami, Chicago
 East St. Louis got crazy hoods
 Oakland Compton watts wearin' the hoods
 Yo true indeed, Louisville
 Boostin' Houston got crazy hoods
 New Orleans, Seattle
 North Carolina cannot forget about Atlanta
 Shock master [Incomprehensible] got crazy hoods
 Listenin' to his program
 And the hoods are holdin' their joint and they're out
 True indeed, see-ya