[Verse 1: Neapolitan Italian-accented male MC, low menace over the stomping kick and mandolin tremolo] Up the stairs on Via dei Tribunali, over the bakery Forty years a needle and a tape around my neck, you see Don Ciro comes up Tuesday with three men and a cigar Wants a suit for his daughter's weddin', he wants it better than the stars He sits down in my chair and looks around at what I got Says, "Your nephew owes me money, Peppe, and it's quite a lot So you make the suit for nothin', and we call it even, yes?" And I smile and pick the chalk up, say, "Of course, Don, lose the vest" [Verse 2: Neapolitan MC, colder, the mandolin tremolo tightening] Chest, a hundred and eight, I read it out nice and loud Shoulders, forty-nine, and his men start shufflin' round Sleeve, sixty-four, inseam, eighty-one, collar, forty-three And my boy runs every number down the stairs, right next to me Next door is Toto Russo, and Toto don't sew clothes Toto builds the boxes, oak and pine, in two neat rows Every number that I measure, Toto chalks it on his wall Two of everything, Don Ciro, one to stand in, one to fall Don't look at me like that, Don, I'm a tailor, I'm precise In this street a good man measures every customer twice [Hook: Neapolitan MC, low and certain, the kick stomping] I measure twice, Don, and I cut one time Once for the jacket, and once for the pine Every number in my book goes next door too Hold still, Don Ciro, I'm nearly through [Verse 3: rhyme-density surge, the Neapolitan MC rhymes every half bar, faster and colder, the mandolin racing] "Is that a threat?" he says, and I say, "Don, it's a fittin', I'm sittin' here stitchin'" Chalk for the cloth, and the cloth for the cut, and the cut for the man who's twitchin' You came up my stairs with your men and your glare and your smoke and my nephew's debt And I measured you square from your shoes to your hair, and I haven't been wrong yet Your shoulders are wide and your chest is a tide and your neck is a forty-three Your men are as tall as the bakery wall, and I measured them, every one, for free So the nephew's debt, Don, let it rest, Don, you'll have the suit by the weddin' date And Toto next door's got your size on the floor, and Toto don't like to wait I never said a word that you haven't heard, I just read you what I wrote Chest, sleeve, inseam, collar, and the tape around your throat [Hook: Neapolitan MC, flat and slow, the whole band stomping] I measure twice, Don, and I cut one time Once for the jacket, and once for the pine Every number in my book goes next door too Hold still, Don Ciro, I'm nearly through [Outro: Neapolitan MC, polite as the band stops on the kick] He paid in cash and tipped the boy, and the debt went out the door And Toto's got the numbers, Don, still chalked across his floor [End]
