Letras: Ill Bill. Coka Moschiach.

:
Yeah, yeah
Sniff ya brains out, all my Al Capone, Al Pacino niggas
For real, nigga
Sniff ya brains out, all my Al Capone, Al Pacino niggas
For them gangstas
You know how it goes
Sniff ya brains out, all my Al Capone, Al Pacino niggas
Hey yo, Ill Bill represent, nigga, what up what up

[Verse 1: Ill Bill]

An eight ball of coka makes Sharon smile like Hall and Oates
Line it up, spread it on the table like Torah scrolls, homie
But if you limp by us by us you?re a goner
Now put the money in the bag before me and Rae pull an Osama
Square biz, no plots and schemes, boy
Hit you with fifty shots like the cops from Queens
Y?all on the cross with a crown that bleeds
Resurrect you but for speed bump
The trumpets sound like screams
Shoot the bitch in the trunk of the Buick for foolishness
Kill Fallujah bricks, this is only built for Cuban links
Lord know I got mouths to feed
So my heart is ice cold to anybody outside my team
Fuck you, pay me a million dollars
Matter fact, make it a billion
Fuck a condo, I?m taking the building
Postin like the freeway, Ricky Ross in the Porche
And hosted by Manowar?s Ross The Boss in Le Mans

[Chorus x 2]

Sniff your brains out, all my Vinnie ? and Joe Pescis
With coke recipes and hoes on ecstasy
La Coka Nostra, a brand you can trust
Catch me in the bathroom stall handing out bumps

[Verse 2: Raekwon]

We blast shotties off the roof, strapped ? to the coupe
Living like this duke?ll have a nigga bidding in boots
I swear to my seeds, daddy gonna buy you the V?s
But instead I got trapped and started buying them keys
I went from rich kid selling under the bench to lynch kid
High powered money nigga living in Richmond
? a few beats, ran through hoods
Bought a new Jeep, pulled guns on police
Shot up a four-seat
Then I got clapped, yeah I thought I had it right but I was wrong
Now I got it on when I write, I rectify this
You live by the sword and get fried by the board
That?s the only way you gotta get on
What it is, nigga, get high, remember the ?
And play the tape that resemble the great S Rate Quiz
Nigga, stay real, history?s ill, don?t stop
Till you cash in, catch me in the Aston in Bill

[Chorus x 2]


(Thanks to Antonio Martins for these lyrics)