Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Snow Beach , by - La Coka Nostra. Song from the album Masters Of The Dark Arts, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопSnow Beach |
| People sometimes don’t care, they don’t — |
| They, they’re so busy with themselves |
| They’re so busy growing, so busy trying to be something |
| And they forget, until something tragic happens in their lives |
| Until they lose somebody or they lose something in their life |
| They say, «why didn’t I do the right thing? |
| Why didn’t I say what I always wanted to say?» |
| I’m trying to say it now while I am alive |
| I was taught to die with my boots on my enemy’s throat |
| Not slumped over in my wife’s lap like Kennedy’s dome |
| But you don’t get to choose death unless your serenity’s broke |
| Loss of suicidal hanging from your sanity’s rope |
| So we live, like the shadow of death is upon us to the fullest |
| Fuck with us, you’ll go from full of shit to full of bullets |
| We the masters of the darkest of arts |
| In the shroud of the shadow till the hellfire is sparked |
| The revolution will be classified |
| This song is programmed to self-destruct |
| See you in the afterlife |
| See you in the promised land of milk and honey |
| Where we kill for money |
| Where every $ 100 bill is stained with guilt and bloody |
| Where every single truth is tainted by lies |
| Where every pistol shoot hatred like the blaze in the sky |
| Composed like a symphony, orchestrating the crimes |
| Spraying the nine, explode instantly, taking what’s mine |
| La Coka Nostra fleece, exclusive like Snow Beach |
| Shooters with chrome heat, 40-Belows and gold teeth |
| Rather turn in my grave than turn into a slave |
| Committing murders in a haze |
| Empty these burners in your face, homie |
| Coka Soldier fatigues, exclusive like Snow Beach |
| Shooters with chrome heat, 40-Belows and gold teeth |
| Fillets of black, spilling militant rap, buck 'em |
| Have 'em kicking the bucket like a Gilligan hat |
| Polo loco on my torso, know no one before me |
| Stutter Step 6, stumbling with a stogie |
| I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi and a Ralph Lauren Snow Beach |
| Monogamous mostly, condom glowing |
| Eighty-eight, Daisy Age, pot holes |
| Grumpy cut, low scarf, fly lows |
| Chronologic objects, gossip with the goblins |
| Cottage where the God is, gunning by the garbage |
| Knowledge is infinite, militant, dividends |
| Different, wear slippers by Michelin |
| Groups in they group, minute-made soup |
| This ain’t my debut, niggas ain’t new |
| La Coka Nostra, gorra cola conga |
| All my nieces look like Dora Dora |
| Double L general, thirsty Puerto Rican |
| No mercy worth me, knock your fucking teeth in |
| I rock the Polo hoodie while I lay tracks with Marco |
| Lay sacks till my fingertips darker than choco |
| Used to hang around Puerto-Rocks calling me Flacko |
| Saying, «Uno ocho siete» on an undercover narco |
| Early on it was apparent I was off to a wack start |
| Born with yellow teeth, red eyes, and a black heart |
| But things changed, homie, now I got a black card |
| American Express, pushing heroin for less |
| Packing metal in this bitch, I’m the Devil in the flesh |
| Yeah, my attitude, it stinks, but I’ve never been as fresh |
| I’m the bad guy that they ain’t got the evidence to get |
| The dollar’s in the toilet and the president is dead |
| Said the world ain’t got no skies, look at Heaven, is it red? |
| Triple sixes follow me, I’m banging sevens in my bed |
| I’m a Christian, listen to me, hang a reverend by his head |
| Dangled by his neck, tangled in my fucking spider web |
| I’m an alpha male, put a gun in the mouth of men |
| Up inside the Polo ranch and knocking off a Ralph Lauren |
| I’m a low life, left my old life, the green white with a gold stripe |
| Old type with the OE, I’m a OG that you don’t like |
Lyrics of the artist's songs: La Coka Nostra
Lyrics of the artist's songs: Ill Bill
Lyrics of the artist's songs: Slaine
Lyrics of the artist's songs: Thirstin Howl The 3rd