Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song America, artist - La Coka Nostra. Album song To Thine Own Self Be True, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 03.11.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Fat Beats
Song language: English
America |
Inequality is really unprecedented |
Talking about the American dream, it’s all collapsed |
There was an expectation that things were gonna get better |
There isn’t today |
Half-grinned dotty eyes, shadowed by his hat brims |
Stocks press red line, shotty in the black Benz |
Five fetched headlines, followed by a rap fiend |
Red blood dripping in a black sink |
Bottom line back end, money in a fat link |
Gold chain, full drinks spilling on his linens with the cocaine |
Women on his tip, made the models nervous |
Putting waitresses through college with the bottle service |
The kind of drug dealer’s dreams you can follow furthest |
Using yesterday’s bullets for tomorrow’s murders |
Laughing with the passion with the masterminds, just to pass the time |
Raise a glass of wine for the working man, he’s asinine |
The craft of crime, blue collar tradition |
The high class or the two dollar edition |
All salute to the man sipping cold whiskey |
Where pursuit of the gold could be so risky |
Once upon a time in America |
We were told that the roads would be paved with gold |
But when the well’s done drained and the shells come flying |
Go to church but it still won’t save your soul |
Once upon a time in America |
We were told that the roads would be paved with gold |
But when the blocks get shot up while the cops sweat product |
Go to church but it still won’t save your soul |
My whole circle is large, barbarians with surgical scars |
Send you vertical to the stars while avoiding the murder charge |
Blow your brains like Kennedy in convertible cars |
We stay trapped on the block like cows herded on farms |
Heard the alarm, then my brain froze |
I’m marked with plain clothes |
Hopping out and popping my peoples, giving em halos |
The beast feast on fear and power and greed |
Powder the weed, planting weapons where the innocent bleed |
The ignorant breed descended wicked sons with guns |
To shoot first, then interrogate with bloods in my lungs |
I swear to Jesus the police are the fiendish serving to Satan |
A serpent’s forsaken the searches they nervously shaking |
The shots shatter sound matter, body splatters and drops |
Scatter the block, ain’t a predator deadlier than the cop |
Nightsticks leaving sticky blood stains on my white kicks |
For slinging that white, bitch, I stay on the night shift |
Once upon a time in America |
We were told that the roads would be paved with gold |
But when the well’s done drained and the shells come flying |
Go to church but it still won’t save your soul |
Once upon a time in America |
We were told that the roads would be paved with gold |
But when the blocks get shot up while the cops sweat product |
Go to church but it still won’t save your soul |
Went from blocks in the sandbox to rocks on my man’s block |
The only threat, these fag cops |
Kept it moving like black ops |
Used to be park bench philosophers |
The forty ounce bottle mafia, now we sipping wine with tilapia |
Whether from Crooklyn or Compton, turn your problems to options |
Fuck devils, demons and monsters, American dreaming, constant |
Building schemes up to profit, built to defeat the nonsense |
Either kill em with kindness or pop them and drop them in a ditch |
On to the next endeavor, we investing forever |
But tomorrow’s a lifetime away from this very second |
And it only takes a second to fire a gun |
Another second to die young |
Is this the American dream or a nightmare? |
Is life fair? |
I don’t know but I’ll be right there |
With ya if they try to hit ya, standing back-to-back with pistols in the picture |
Eight million stories like the riddles in the scripture |
Once upon a time in America |
We were told that the roads would be paved with gold |
But when the well’s done drained and the shells come flying |
Go to church but it still won’t save your soul |
Once upon a time in America |
We were told that the roads would be paved with gold |
But when the blocks get shot up while the cops sweat product |
Go to church but it still won’t save your soul |