Guns Blazing (drums Of Death Part 1)

Somewhere in Space this may all be happening right now Styles like Al Pacino Reno until the Borsellino The mad Dino with the bambino The Gambino Bigger than Jim Colosimo More Reservoir Dogs than Tarantino Scales for Venezuela Brown as Nino Making the block hotter than jalepenos G. Luciano Be wetting shit like Pesci in Casino Fifty dollar cigar seer The Bosnia The mafia Don poet like Garcia The Drug Czar and the baby paw beater The M8 behind the bar freer The Poconos The Panama skier Down with the parmesan Ready to bomb like Vietnam with arms ‘Cause the hollow-points and phenomenon The cheddar-spreader The killer with the gold Beretta Nigger deader The sweater wetter with the hollow leader Drama setter The Paneretta getting redder kids and momma shredder The infrared glow off the armor better The Godfather The problem solver Coming through with the six-shell revolver Hot as lava Gun skills that’s real And in the ‘ville I be the barber Gangster saga The motherfucking face carver Give you a dose of shit that’s dope as soda The underworld family Cosa Nostra Pearl handle inside the shoulder holster G. Luciano with a clique but with nothing but niggas and Chicanos You get hit up like Castellano Italiano like crime familia Nigger don’t get familiar Me and my goons might have to kill you Up in New York We play bloodsports at home court And hold down forts Soon as you're caught Get your dome torched G Rap and DJ Shadow leave your bones squashed Squeeze the chrome shot Take no shorts We judge and jury in the home court Leave you the blown corpse dead on the sidewalk Surrounded by mad Peter Falks Your whole frame laid in the white chalk You got the smoking section First-class tickets to resurrection Forever destined to a place where niggas never resting Headed in Hell’s direction Lost at the crossroads and intersection Should’ve wore a vest for chest protection Slugs fill you to the capacity Someone at the dance Someone with the hand velocity of Butch Cassidy Bitch nigger with the audacity to blaspheme me Got yourself caught in a motherfucking tragedy Drums of death Shit is real up in this field, you should be packing steel If you want to cross the Don you kiss the ring and kneel If you want to bring the beef you do whatever you feel But get your whole family killed, bitch, you know how we deal