| Glowing Grim Reaper eyes, bleeding skies, demons rise
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| Half the youth believe in lies how crucifying Jesus died
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| Walk amongst the snake charmers and bank robbers
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| That spray Llama, slay drama, I hate problems
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| We the most precious resource with treachery cause
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| Destiny calls when every king eventually falls
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| Scientifical THC density warped
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| Future primitive savage remove the head from your corpse
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| Throw your aura in a black glow energy warp
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| Bio-tech cyborgs without a shred of remorse
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| Another mutated life force of the deadliest sort
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| My shooter’s a strike force remove your heads with a sword
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| Better yet a saw, get a straw, medicine galore
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| On that goon shit, we be the most relevant of all
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| Brand you can bet your hand on
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| These other brands are tampons
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| With sand sores, but fuck that bullshit cause ours bang hard
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| Now everybody saying Coka is back
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| But they ain’t go nowhere they was rolling the stacks
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| Standing over the body watching smoke from the gat
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| We the illest in the game and you know it’s a fact
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| BRRAATT!
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| Bong, bong motherfucker
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| Hit your bitch raw dog, war motherfucker
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| Put your shit back, you LeBron, motherfucker
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| Haha, let’s get on motherfucker
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| Knocked ‘em out with one punch that’s a shitty fight
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| Getting money fucking gunthers, that’s the shitty life
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| I’m in your city, hype, fucking big titty dykes
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| These fucking bars will knock a hipster off his city bike
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| Fuck your life nigga, we so damn glorious
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| Coney Island hundred deep, no it ain’t The Warriors
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| It’s the Lyfer Gang, nigga get your wifey banged
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| It’s pure dope, put in in the needle, spike your vein
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| I hit the booth grilling tracks with my true feelings
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| Then I hit the stage acapella they like «Ooh kill ‘em!»
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| I’m in the coop chilling, rag top, new ceiling
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| Bumping George Michael, cross dangling off my hoop earring
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| Eighties shit, get your lady hit with the crazy dick
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| Big guns like they on the deck of a Navy ship
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| You leave the crib I’m smoking weed with your babysit
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| Hit her raw then wipe my nut on the baby bib
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| From the basketball diary, Catholic team junkie
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| Cocaine kid on the path that seemed bumpy
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| Half the team locked in a casket seen monthly
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| Travelling in packs like a Capuchin monkey
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| Sack of trees chunky, my faculties funky
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| Rackets and packets get me out the lead jumpy
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| But I ain’t had no vertical leap
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| Just this phantom that I can spin into this vertical deep
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| Now the wrath on that path has a past between us
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| We killed your radio and smashed your zenith
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| The federales, yeah, they had subpoenas
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| Drones and satellite dishes lined half to Venus
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| But they can suck my flaccid penis
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| Once the kid’s off the grid, while I got enough cash to lean us
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| Serial scratched off when we stash the niners
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| Live to shoot another day and make a classic remix |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Archie Bunker, artist - La Coka Nostra. Album song To Thine Own Self Be True, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп