Coka Kings - La Coka Nostra, Ill Bill, Slaine

Yo you get hit like surface-to-air missiles, get crashed like Zildjian cymbals

My aura is a force-field that can withstand pistols

And nuclear payloads that erase whole continents

Turn global occupants to smouldering apocalypse

Coka inclined to pain, Coka and the Hologram

Broken Bottle Gang, buck-fifty you in Rotterdam

My goons are carnivores and outlaws that start wars

Scarred yours like dartboards, drop you where the sharks swarm

Sub-zero freezing weather, gun below the Peewee sweater

Shoot lead, green Beretta, you dead, we forever

Spaz with the Uzi, hold the chromey to peel

Uncle Howie bragged he used to do coke with Toni Tennille

Flame with the molotov, common place like date rapes in college dorms

I make the planet rock like Afrika Bambaataa songs

Die effective martyrs, deaded for doom

Coka Kings riot tested Armageddon approved

This Coka Kings, hard body shit, you know that we a problem

Coka Kings, the dope stuff

9-lethal rap, Pazienza, Coka Nos'

Three murderers, father and son and holy ghost

Dig a hole, carry the head of a Trojan goat

My voice carry the power that’s from Jehovah’s throat

Pazienza paranoid so the toaster’s close

Premonition of pain inside the vulture’s cloak

My cousin Lethal cut it up like it was soap and coke

The fat bastard a track master like?

My bitch carry my hat on her side, a Burberry bag

I leave you covered in shells like you a hermit crab

Steadfast and bled fast when the curtain dragged

The haze of infatuation of smoking dirt and skag

Cock the motherfucking Glock, good riddance

Make this motherfucker rock like if Pac was spitting

God-forbidden, put a hole inside your fitted

Take your head with your conscious in it

I’m a G

This Coka Kings, hard body shit, you know that we a problem

Coka Kings, the dope stuff

I’m a political prisoner living on this criminal planet

Animal chemical mixologist, my confidence is brimming

Goddamn it more prominence, escalating to a dominance

The high exalted kingdom of Slaine, the slang poet

The AA, the anonymous, IRA conglomerate

Bombing it, fuck it I’m old school, I stay with that atomic shit

Keep lighting the dust bone when you hit it cause the embalming’s wet

Your dos is don’ts and you ain’t got out of your pajamas yet

My ego’s bigger than Obama’s lips

My lips spit verses of controversy with no mercy, yous are counterfeits

Your money’s no good over this way, it don’t amount to shit

My respect’s my currency, go ahead, try and count the bills

I stack federal notes, you say the angel’s just dangerous

But I didn’t tell you the devil is dope

Ask the heroin shooters, nothing like a rush in the vein

Fuck I’m insane, still stuck in this illustrious pain