Letras de La Coka Nostra - This Is War | BUMBABlog


Letras de This Is War de La Coka Nostra

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[Intro: Everlast]

Yes sir. What? It’s fucking coka

[Verse 1: Everlast]

It’s clockwork apocalypse, mass armageddon
Moving too fast, don't ask me where I'm headin'
Shake your ass in the dice bitch, roll me a seven
Fresh like huggy, take you all the way to heaven
Sipping on absinthe, smoking on a Primo
Kid I got family like a fucking Gambino
Shoot you in the gut like I’m Junior Soprano
You talk batshit crazy but you won’t do guano
You're just another victim, picked and plucked
Your chick came back stage, my dick got sucked
My arrogance scary and aristocratic
Bitch I ain't snobby, I’m problematic
I’ll scream “bomb” in the lobby and I’ll cause a panic
It’s iceberg Whitey, I’ll sink your Titanic
Rep’s gigantic, flow is tyranic
Like Saddam Hussein high on ‘caine and Xanax

[Chorus: Big Left]

This is war, aim still and heat up the steel
This is war, capo regime, captains at the hill
This is war, chemical agents used in the fields
This is war, grind ‘em up like Hamburger Hill

[Verse 2: Ill Bill]

We don’t give a fuck if we gotta step with your family
I’mma kidnap your moms and Fedex you her panties
We top dollar, we pop lamas
We not promised tomorrow so we involved in all types of horror
Never caught up in that bullshit, divide and conquer
Riding for my homies means I’ll probably die a monster
I’m a certified mobster, La Coka rock star
F*** music, I’m talking about the block, pa
I’m talking about bullet holes the size of God’s heart
And choppers that could put Satan inside a pine box
Imagine what we'd do to you if we wanted to
Pay LAPD to pop you like Amadou
I buy anybody, everybody got a price
Everybody got a momma, everybody got a wife
Everybody got someone he likes or loves
Spike them with drugs and decorate their life with their blood


[Verse 3: Big Left]

I’m the motherfucking Dre killer
President Bush learned me well
Hit anybody on the outside from jail
Big Left, I handle bars like I'm stuck on rails
Yes, a breath of fresh air like you're opening sails
List, it’s not really that hard, just picture the facts
Welcome to the major leagues where mics are baseball bats
And I’m back, make believe it’s ‘88 and I’m crack
You can tell the shit’s mine by the navy blue caps
New York Yankee fitted the Bronx was the beginning
Where cats got cement shoes to limit their swimming
This is real life, fighting like pits
Duct taping the grip
A true Hollywood story that fits
Wield the steel in the field, my fate’s already sealed
I’m stuck in a game show between deal or no deal
I spit you know the name, I’m not for playing games
Get you higher in vertical than my man David Blaine


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