Artist: Thirstin Howl III f/ Unique London Album: Brooklyn Hard Rock/Spit Boxers 12" * Song: Brooklyn Hard Rock Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash * a shorter version of this song appears on "Soundbombing 2" [Unique London] Hey Brooklyn Hard Rock, your style is mad tight! Your style is mad tight, your style is mad TIGHT!! Hey Brooklyn Hard Rock, your style is mad tight! Your style is mad tight, your style is mad TIGHT!! [Thirstin Howl III] My mind is stronger than the pictures in your muscle books With more manners, than all of the Huxtables Pain before pleasure (U.L.: Death before dishonor!) Turn rap wannabe piranhas into _A Fish Called Wanda_ Swordfish.. to mermaids.. I lay down the law without being represented by an attor-ney Overqualified, for all technical institutes I get the job done when you barely make it past the interview The streets is watchin, eyeballin -- careful! Everybody wants a piece of me like I'm a James Brown sample Spittin flames -- call the fire warden! Out of town, violent tourist, glove grip Isotoner, sands of time, priceless moments Disguised as doorman -- plug, vital organs With my bare hands, I fight your swordmen, smokescreen rifles scorchin -- even my bible's stolen! [Unique London] Hey Brooklyn Hard Rock, your style is mad tight! Your style is mad tight, your style is mad TIGHT!! Hey Brooklyn Hard Rock, your style is mad tight! Your style is mad tight, your style is mad TIGHT!! [Thirstin Howl III] Imagine, life without handcuffs Concentration -- with the brain muscle tissue of Samson The benchpress, of a gold medal-ist, in the olympics Rifle reach of Manute Bol's two arms I'm shotgun ammunition -- soon to be airing When I'm not in my shell (U.L.: All you see are his balls baring!) The rap, promoter, I start your motor with a screwdriver -- break into your crib with a tenedor or cuchara, or bent hanger Who wanna get it on? My mic is cocked, I'm overanxious!! Before battles, get a permit to come within two blocks radius Kiss your mother, see your preacher, and study fire-exit safety tips Bring witcha, a fire extinguisher I make the whole scene (U.L.: BLOODY!) with an English touch In ninety-eight I'm still robbin people for sheepskin gloves Had three gazelles, admitted nothing when I sat in my cell [Unique London] Hey Brooklyn Hard Rock, your style is mad tight! Your style is mad tight, your style is mad TIGHT!! Hey Brooklyn Hard Rock, your style is mad tight! Your style is mad tight, your style is mad TIGHT!! [Thirstin Howl III] A strongarm with lyrics, watch how I prove myself Whether shadowboxing or full contact I maneuver well About to have rap locked, with rhymes two to a cell Inmate in segregated housin unit refusin the mail Nervous, chain smoker, high blood pressure Master fool or court jester, lyrical sport experts Dress for tennis, the mind of Minolta with special-effect lenses Parade of all-stars, with Brownsville Bullet gold cards Don't played with a full deck, as positive as my drug urine test My rhymes do to your brain what bullets do to flesh! Rockin the house, the cradle, the boat, in the eighth grade coulda rocked the bells, but I was more comfortable in straight legs Strong, like the contribution to rap Kane gave My ego and my conscience refuse to share the same space! Treacherous like Naughty By Nature and Kool Moe Dee Wouldn't catch me Half Steppin', even if I lost both feet! [Unique London] Hey Brooklyn Hard Rock, your style is mad tight! Your style is mad tight, your style is mad TIGHT!! Hey Brooklyn Hard Rock, your style is mad tight! Your style is mad tight, your style is mad TIGHT!! Hey Brooklyn Hard Rock, your style is mad tight! Your style is mad tight, your style is mad TIGHT!! Hey Brooklyn Hard Rock, your style is mad tight! Your style is mad tight, your style is mad TIGHT!!