Get outta my way when I'm blasting my gun
Got 99 bullets but it only takes one
Got a chrome.45, a razor-sharp machete
La Coka Nostra, the fucking world ain't ready
Get outta my way when I'm blasting my gun
Got 99 bullets but it only takes one
It's murder in the first, premeditated
La Coka Nostra, the fucking haters hate it
Here comes the mighty ones they call whiteys
This is cinematic but ain't directed by Spike Lee
It's La Coka, not forty acres and a mule
The corner hustlers want forty quakers and a tool
Breaking all the rules with the hammers and the baggies
Since I moved to Southie and my nanny used to nag me
"Do your homework, get off the street, read a book."
Instead I wrote a rhyme now fuck it, I need a hook.
And you should see the looks that I get when I'm walking now
You should see the respect I get when I'm talking, wow
It's like the whole world spun around
Raw's out the undergound, I supposed everybody knows
Yeah, the surgeon's general, sergeant at arms
Black ops insurgent dropping hydrogen bombs
Recognizance salute, report a confirmed kill
Record a thirty millimeter grenade launcher mortar
You weak mother fuckers need to change your material
Serial kill M.C.'s diseased venereal
Imperial law, fucking Big Left's a God
Capo regime, original head nod
The all-American king of late night, Letterman
Medicine for all of your hip hop endeavours, man
Razor bleed in the cheek, machine gun to the cheek
Jungle warfare, using the streets, motherfucker
My words demand attention like a terrorist with nuclear weapons
It's Ill Billion dollar Bill and you're a useless investment
Behind every great fortune is a shooter's confession
If only the Lord knows, dope, continue to bless them, wet them
My holy water stolen Soviet automatics
Some mortars from Odessa from street corners to boroughs
It's the extra special
To these bitches my dick is existential
Porno director, let bitches know if they have potential
La Coka Nostra, I walk around with the chrome toaster
So coked that my nose is totally fucking frozen, drug music
Like the coke rock my uncle would smoke
Got junkies doing the robot for bundles of dope
I heard they don't want to call it Hell's Kitchen no more
I swear hip hop got me looking at the front door
I used to love her, now I want her smothered
When I see all the bastard styles that she's mothered
Fuck the Dalai Lama, it's the drama starter
I'll blow the spot like an Al Aksa martyr
Better lock up your guns, hide away your daughter
Keep the Irish boy away from the fire water
Cause the fire water numb the Irish man's pain
It's the Samurai Druid from the Highland Plains
Like William Wallace and Michael Collins
Beat you down, scream on you like I'm Henry Rollins
