| Yeah, sniff your brains out all my Al Capone, Al Pacino nigga’s
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| For real nigga
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| Sniff your brains out all my Al Capone, Al Pacino nigga’s
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| For them gangsters
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| Sniff your brains out all my Al Capone, Al Pacino nigga’s
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| Yeah, let’s get it, Yo, hey yo Bill represent nigga what up, what up
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| An eight ball of coke will make Sara smile like Hall & Oates
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| Line it up, spread it on the table like Torah scrolls, homie
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| But if you Len Bias, you’re a goner
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| Now put the money in the bag before me and Rae pull an Osama
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| Square biz, no plots or schemes boy
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| Hit you with 50 shots like them cops from Queens
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| You’re on a cross with a crown that bleeds
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| Resurrect you with a speed bump and trumpets that sound like screams
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| Shoot the bitch in the trunk of the Buick for foolishness
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| Killed for losing bricks, this is Only Built For Cuban Linx
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| Lord know I got mouths to feed
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| So my heart is ice cold to anybody outside my team
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| Fuck you, pay me a million dollars, matter fact, make it a billion
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| Fuck a condo I’m taking the building
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| Posted like the Freeway Ricky Ross in the Porsche
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| And hosted by Manowar’s Ross the Boss at L’amours
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| Sniff your brains out all my Vinny the Chins and Joe Pescis
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| With coke recipes and hoes on ecstasy, La Coka Nostra a brand you can trust
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| Catch me in the bathroom stall handing out bumps
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| We blast shottys off the roof, strapped, trapped in a coup
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| Living like this, duke’ll have a nigga bidding in boots
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| I swear to my seeds, daddy gonna buy you the V’s
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| But instead I got trapped and started buying them keys
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| I went from rich kid, selling under the bench to lynch kid
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| High power money nigga living in Richmond
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| Wore a few beefs, ran through hoods, ordered new jeeps
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| Pull guns on police, shot up the four seasons
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| Then I got clapped, yapped, thought I had it right
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| But I was wrong then, now I get it on when I write
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| I rectify this, you live by the sword and get fried by the board
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| Cause that’s the only way we got to get on
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| What it is nigga, get high, remember the grizz
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| And play the tape that resemble the great, that’s Raekwiz, nigga
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| Stay real, history’s ill, don’t stop til you cash in
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| Catch me in the Aston with Bill Pill |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Coka Moschiach (feat. Raekwon the Chef) , by - Ill Bill. Song from the album The Hour Of Reprisal, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп