3rd Bass
3rd Bass Theme aka Portrait of the Artist as a Hood Remix
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 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 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!