המוסד - La Coka Nostra, Ill Bill, Slaine

I was born in Dorchester in the midst of the torn seventies

With bad memories, bad habits and sworn enemies

Terrifying prospects, baptized in fire

Black Irish chipped teeth, fast lives and liars

Cars with fast tires, bitches with no morals

Money with no questions, caskets with no florals

Bodies with no headstones, dirt naps and apathy

I grew up in this, now the worst cats is after me

Junkies and con artists with the rivals and survivalists

Eyes emits a deep abyss, I sleep with this connivingness

No wonder why this virus blister when you ride with us

We can’t rid of all the sickness that’s inside of us

It’s just a gun but it feels like it’s such a heavy burden

It’s just a song but I feel the need to fit every word in

It’s just some whiskey but I can feel that the Chevy swerving

Are you ready to die now?

You better be certain

Make moves like Mossad, I’m close to God

Close to the jackpot though the road is hard

I’d rather take a bullet to the dome than stop

So I’mma keep on going till the world is ours

Fools cause problems to rise start eons ago

Shoot on targets and dive bomb, we on a roll

Ski on the snow, try not to sniff yourself off the cliff

Know the ledge, know who your enemy

Be certain who’s your friend

My shooters laugh at things like human trafficking

And looming anarchy, impending doom, consuming savagery

But keeping it real goes wrong it’s not funny

You can your aim fucked up like Slick Rick when he shot his cousin

I seen the worm holes through sherm smoke

Seen family members burn coke and OD then turn cold

Secret to surviving is not dying and pop iron

Stop trying to be something you’re not, stop lying

Death and life are in the power of the tongue

Watch your mouth, what you say could get you showered with the gun

Crew spray your soul away, draped in hatred and torture

Bones Brigade like Stacy Peralta