Archie Bunker - La Coka Nostra, Ill Bill, Slaine

Glowing Grim Reaper eyes, bleeding skies, demons rise

Half the youth believe in lies how crucifying Jesus died

Walk amongst the snake charmers and bank robbers

That spray Llama, slay drama, I hate problems

We the most precious resource with treachery cause

Destiny calls when every king eventually falls

Scientifical THC density warped

Future primitive savage remove the head from your corpse

Throw your aura in a black glow energy warp

Bio-tech cyborgs without a shred of remorse

Another mutated life force of the deadliest sort

My shooter’s a strike force remove your heads with a sword

Better yet a saw, get a straw, medicine galore

On that goon shit, we be the most relevant of all

Brand you can bet your hand on

These other brands are tampons

With sand sores, but fuck that bullshit cause ours bang hard

Now everybody saying Coka is back

But they ain’t go nowhere they was rolling the stacks

Standing over the body watching smoke from the gat

We the illest in the game and you know it’s a fact

BRRAATT!

Bong, bong motherfucker

Hit your bitch raw dog, war motherfucker

Put your shit back, you LeBron, motherfucker

Haha, let’s get on motherfucker

Knocked ‘em out with one punch that’s a shitty fight

Getting money fucking gunthers, that’s the shitty life

I’m in your city, hype, fucking big titty dykes

These fucking bars will knock a hipster off his city bike

Fuck your life nigga, we so damn glorious

Coney Island hundred deep, no it ain’t The Warriors

It’s the Lyfer Gang, nigga get your wifey banged

It’s pure dope, put in in the needle, spike your vein

I hit the booth grilling tracks with my true feelings

Then I hit the stage acapella they like «Ooh kill ‘em!»

I’m in the coop chilling, rag top, new ceiling

Bumping George Michael, cross dangling off my hoop earring

Eighties shit, get your lady hit with the crazy dick

Big guns like they on the deck of a Navy ship

You leave the crib I’m smoking weed with your babysit

Hit her raw then wipe my nut on the baby bib

From the basketball diary, Catholic team junkie

Cocaine kid on the path that seemed bumpy

Half the team locked in a casket seen monthly

Travelling in packs like a Capuchin monkey

Sack of trees chunky, my faculties funky

Rackets and packets get me out the lead jumpy

But I ain’t had no vertical leap

Just this phantom that I can spin into this vertical deep

Now the wrath on that path has a past between us

We killed your radio and smashed your zenith

The federales, yeah, they had subpoenas

Drones and satellite dishes lined half to Venus

But they can suck my flaccid penis

Once the kid’s off the grid, while I got enough cash to lean us

Serial scratched off when we stash the niners

Live to shoot another day and make a classic remix