Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Omertà, artist - Necro. Album song Once Upon a Crime, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 18.11.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: c. Psycho+Logical
Song language: English
Omertà |
| A succession of Mafia defectives have put Gotti |
| And his fellow Mafia bosses in jail for life |
| Omerta the vow of silence under pain of death |
| Is no longer sacred |
| Let off the pistol chrome at any Joe |
| Pistone confessed to an Episcopal bishop |
| How my biscuit clip domes |
| The biggest mob figures and gunslingers together |
| In the same room for a ritual my trigger finger’s severed |
| As this card burns may my soul burn in hell forever |
| If I betray the oath of Omerta |
| Don’t push a button man’s button |
| Ill bloody up anyone that butt in and stab your mans gut in |
| Blood in blood out |
| Rammed up the butt end |
| For your moronic plea coppin |
| Cause they caught you with electronic eavesdropping |
| Now something demonic screaming please stop em |
| Stop the meat cleaver chop em |
| Canned |
| That’s our society’s secret keep em quiet option |
| The boss will sanction a shanking, then you’ll thank em |
| For the privilege of being ranked as the pillager of anxious action |
| My counsel varies |
| Concealed pencil like utensil in your frontal lobe mental |
| Thank you consigliere |
| We’ll murder anybody any time any place |
| At the snap of a finger pop you in the face |
| Issue contracts to kill people never say us |
| Sentence you to motherfucken death if you betray us |
| Peace to all the gangsters doing time in Marion |
| Rikers, Leavenworth, Folsom, Attica we’ll carry on tradition |
| The most powerful |
| Godfathers in America |
| GRap and Necro |
| You cowards fold |
| Balls get slit on a fraudulent bitch |
| Holdin a dish |
| Rope all on this wrist |
| Fist all on the fifth |
| Paint the wall with your shit |
| No luck fuck |
| Boy you non McCoy |
| Un-official |
| I squeeze hard on the pistol |
| Make your arteries sizzle |
| Get laid down put the tre pound Guard on your whistle |
| To you sodomy tickle |
| Your shit all hard and your nipples |
| Make you sleep longer than Van Winkle |
| Fuck stomach cuts |
| I hope your stomach, guts and my hands mingle |
| Tuck chromey in a tuxedo |
| Tuss a lonley |
| And fuck any tough Tony |
| Plus his homies |
| Fucked up hobby clown |
| You Bobby Brown’s Tender Roni |
| Leave ya mom’s head in your bed |
| We don’t touch ponies |
| Valors we’re vowless |
| Leave niggas forty caliber styled in |
| Foul as Afghan Taliban wildman |
| Screw on silencers and eat salad |
| Over the violence |
| Commission vocal splittin your throat |
| Niggas is prowlin |
| We’ll murder anybody any time any place |
| At the snap of a finger pop you in the face |
| Issue contracts to kill people never say us |
| Sentence you to motherfucken death if you betray us |
| Peace to all the gangsters doing time in Marion |
| Rikers, Leavenworth, Folsom, Attica we’ll carry on tradition |
| The most powerful |
| Godfathers in America |
| GRap and Necro |
| You cowards fold |
| Just When I thought I was out |
| They pulled me back in |