Album Name : Intermission
Release Date : 2009-06-23
Song Duration : 3:30
La Coka Nostra Do It
[Chorus]
Do that shit, do that shit, do it
[Intro: Everlast]
Here's a little story that must be told About a crew that'll f..ck around and kill your soul
[Verse 1: Ill Bill]
Fourteen carat junkie mouth Forty-deuce let the monkey out Flying guillotines drunk and loud, buck em down Too powerful for these cowards who Rely on power tools like smart cards for buying food You liars is soft, I'm like that MIT professor that got caught The Unabomber right before he first popped off Ill Bill, this is for the glowing eye on the pyramid For the cinnamon we copped from them Dominicans It's him again, the broken 380 that popped twice then jammed The boom ? right cop twice then scram We the lost children of the Babylonian emperor Sent to war, saw decapitated heads galore Wore the skin of polar bears and great white sharks And murdered those that sit around complain about "Ain't life hard?" We the most despicable, your head is so kickable Let the pistol shoot splattering all of you little dudes Listen goons
[Chorus]
[Verse 2: Slaine]
Yeah, I got these voices in my head, I'm trapped and I can't escape them My sanity's a body of water whose dam is breaking Reanimating my hatred, I'm standing holding cannons Waiting to withdraw an alcoholic and his f..cking hands are shaking Signs and symptoms, hallucinations, delusions Intrusions of gruesome faces, I'm disillusioned and losing my grip In between every cocaine drip saying, "Do that shit, do that shit, do it." I'm a timebomb ticking, ticking, ticking you can hear it tick I don't need a therapist to tell me that my spirit's sick I'll f..ck any bitch with a pussy and a pair of tits I'll do anything for any paper, I ain't scared of shit When the angel dust bone's lit, yeah it smells funky Walking through the doomsday streets like it's 12 Monkeys Hell's junkies trail me like a posse of fiends It's like I'm lost in a posthumous dream with all the demons saying
[Chorus]
[Verse 3: Everlast]
Back to the future, blast from the past A brand new religion for your stankin' ass We pray, we fast, we conducting mass Gangster pop your gun, hooker shake your ass Back to the future, blast from the past A brand new religion for your stankin' ass We pray, we fast, we conducting mass Gangster pop your gun, hooker shake your ass