* 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 woulda bent the door off
 Cuchada, 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