Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Fuck Tony Montana, artist - La Coka Nostra. Album song A Brand You Can Trust, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 06.07.2009
Record label: Suburban Noize
Song language: English
Fuck Tony Montana |
Fuck Tony Montana, we kill kids |
If he did he’d still be alive |
Al Pacino fucked up twice |
I’m a vet but Benny Blanco ain’t taking my life |
I’mma end up on the beach with my seed in my wife |
One last hustle, last hoorah, move this last bundle |
I caught bodies out here, homie, y’all can’t fumble |
Most of my felonies are legendary |
That’s why I put most of my enemies in cemeteries |
I seen visions from beyond the grave, burning in Hell |
Screaming in pain to God, begging to be saved |
This is purgatory, another first-degree murder story |
They took my kindness for a weakness and turned it on me |
That’s when I blacked out, pulling triggers like I was cracked out |
Eyes bugging out my head tapped out |
Schized the fuck out, loced out, coked out |
Shottied up, left you soaked the fuck up and smoked out |
Fuck a motherless child from a penniless home |
I’m a heartless lion with an iron-jaw bone |
I’m no Al Capone or Corleone |
But I’ve been known to put a hit out on the microphone |
Fuck your time zone, fuck your area code |
I’ll detonate my payload and watch it explode |
It’s a gangster boogie, it’s a soldier’s hustle |
Little bank take big bank if it got muscle |
Drugs, money, sex, revolution is next |
This ain’t strong-armed robbery, we got a small armory |
Fuck cracks and Glocks, we shooting back at the cops |
Deep undercover like we running black ops |
Battle cry singing, you’re on my dick swinging |
Ain’t nobody fucking with this drama I’m bringing |
Some men are king and some men are peasants |
So come kiss the ring, bow down to the king |
I’m from the double S till I drop |
I rep the bubble vest with a Glock |
My trouble stem from all the death on my block |
The meth and the rock got zombie armies set to pop |
Jail cells are funeral plots, they’re stressed in a box |
Sick Side harmony is like Jews and Arabs in bombing sprees |
My hood’s the Gaza Strip, this raw shit’s a part of me |
A cult following martyrs me, street life is haunting me constantly |
Thinking cops with the friction are trying to slaughter me |
A killer’s lottery is roulette, not on himself |
That’s when Russians test the Mexicans and see who’s next |
Hit the block and you’ll catch two Tecs |
Nevermind where you’re from, we’re reacting cause we preview death |
Drive-by murder, hit with a live burner |
You try to shake a barrel to buck, it’s not heard of |
You are not everlasting, get slain by ILL Bill |
One lethal dose of pain and get left on the hill |
There’s so many ways to hustle man, I got em all locked |
If you think about touching mine, the hammer’s on cock |
Got my mind on my money and my money on my mind |
We never stop the hustle, get the paper and fly |
That’s life in the city, shit is gritty, no it ain’t pretty |
But we on the grind, homie, if you ain’t rolling with me |
When you against you just an enemy that might be a cancer |
So then we’re searching to remove your ass, ain’t taking no chances |
In the darkest places ones with the unknown faces |
Cause fire places in hearts of the rebels you hating |
You better take a look and recognise the monster created |
I think we gotta choke em, we just elevated to hatred |
What you know about survival? |
Ever struggle to eat? |
What you know about the poverty? |
Ever live on the street? |
When there ain’t no opportunity trying to make ends meet |
Then you become what they fear but they fear the elite |
I’m a DMS soldier, EMS hold ya |
Now you’re knocked the fuck out, you need a rest, I told ya |
Homie you don’t walk with a lien on my shoulder |
Scheming on your dollar, fiending for a boulder |
Blue-eyed devil spilling semen on your culture |
Who am I to revel? |
What I’m being is a vulture |
On both coasts with the toast to roast you |
My soul’s so close to approaching hopeless |
Flows so dope I do coke to focus |
The angel with the dust so the smokers smoke it |
You loathe how I roll, it was so ferocious |
I know this, I always had a prose composure |
Let the curtains close cause your shows is over |
They’ll be no more of you posers posing |
It’s raw uncut, with a weapon to shoot |
I’m the truth for the youth when I step in the booth, what! |