Lyrics Los Pepes, Pt.1 - Hell Razah, Bronze Nazareth

Los Pepes, Pt.1

His name is Pablo, he snowed like an eskimo
Even could smuggle it through Mexico, the best of 'dro
That grow good enough to make him extra dough
In my ghetto we know him as White Diablo
Smoke coke off a passport, a lot of love in New York
Got crooked cops even callin him boss
Four lawyers paid off for some chicks that transport
In a Jansport, still, it ain’t cut ya hands off
In the ward or the section where they drop the grams off
Too tired, his fears was the best throw off
Tipped the doorman a grand without touchin his hand
Tell him «Stand there and signal if there’s federal vans»
In a penthouse with twenty ki’s under the couch
A mastermind to the kitty game with cat and mouse
Six o' clock gon' be a door knock
Check the money in the suitcase and make sure you load up the Glocks
Eight o’clock you gon' flee the scene, downstairs is a limosine
That chauffer is part of the team
Bring my CREAM through La Guardia, fuck the monitor
I got men in that security room shinin my shoes
When ya ass get off that plane I’m in the baggage claim
With a sign of ya last name holdin a cane
Hurry up and bring my money, I ain’t playin no games
We on our way to hit the stockin exchange, yea
I’m 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos
Ain’t no catchin no bodies until I say so
If I ain’t baggin up 'dro, givin out halos
I’m on that overtime grind, makin my bankroll
Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos
Ain’t no catchin no bodies until I say so
If I ain’t baggin up 'dro, givin out halos
I’m on that overtime grind, makin my bankroll
Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos
Yo God, what’s good man?
Where you at, man?
I’m on 3, I got the Barry White album with me
The Al Green album with me
Man, it’s kinda leary out here
Hurry up!
Meanwhile, a Wayne Metro, fillin Petro in a 745
Lookin for the purple bag with the Devil’s emblem
Blendin employee style, transfer the pounds
Roll weed in my passport, slip past four hounds
Look the other way, too many murders in town
From the skyview we rain rocks Larry Chambers style
Twenty birds with four corrupt lawyers in their pocket
Walk with a gat but ki in each of their vaginas
Sheets spread on the plane to remain anonymous
Took ten cabs to the Historia from La Guardia
Told the doorman «Lookout for unmarked vans»
Notifed this bust nearby, his day was goin grand
Now I’m in, disect the couch in the pit house
Twenty ki’s, no trouble please and shots ring out
Six o' clock, you not, still sniffin his brains out
Pablo main route, come up short, pencil ya frame out
Two hours to do a handcount, please sit still
Load the flocks into the Glocks, it’s mornin so just chill
Everything routine, eight P.M.
to the limosine
A chaffeur with no words, he knows the novel scheme
Bring the CREAM through the detection machine
We insured on the other side of the lens, our luggage is clean
Send one of my doves out to the baggage claim
Look for the Sun of Man, young face with Dragon and King
Hurry up, bring the money up or we’ll garnish ya wage
We tryin to get out to the stockin exchange
Escobar’s criminal history surfaces in the Colombian press
His fall from grace is swift
His uncle is banished from the political scene
And many of his assets are seized