Guns Blazing Drums Of Death Part 1 Lyrics by Unkle

Guns Blazing Drums Of Death Part 1 Lyrics

    Styles like Al Pacino
    Reno until the carcelino
    The mad dino with the cambino, the gambino
    Digger than Jim COlisemo
    More reservoir dogs than Tarantino
    Scales for Venezuela, Brown as Ni O
    Making the block hotter than Jalepe OS
    G. Luciano
    Be wettin' shit like piesce in 'Casino'
    Fifty dollar cigar seer
    The cosnia, the mafia
    Don P. like Garcia
    Drug Czar and the baby-Pah beater
    The M-8 behind the bar-freer
    The poughkenoughs, the panama skier
    Down with the parmesan
    Ready to comb like Vietnam with arms
    'Cause the hollow-points and phenomenon
    The cheddar-spreader
    The killer with the gold Carretta
    N-Leader
    The sweater-letter with the hollow letter
    Drama-setter
    The patmeretta gettin' redder kids and mamma
    Shredder
    Infra-red clow off the armour better
    The godfather, the problem solver
    Coming through with the 6 shell revolver
    Hot as lava
    Guns skills that reel and in the 'ville I be the barber
    Gangster saga, the motha-fuckin' face carver

    Drums of death hold your breath
    Give you a dose of shit that's dope as soda
    The underworld family cosa-nostra
    Pearl-handle inside the shoulder-holster
    G. Luciano with a click but nothin' but N-S & Chicanos
    You get hit up like Castrelano
    italiano like crime familia
    N- don't get familiar
    Me and my goons might have to kill you
    Up in New York
    We play bloodsports at home court
    And hold down forts
    Soon as ya caught, get your dome torched
    G Rap and Dj Shadow leave your bone squashed
    Squeeze the chrome short, take no shorts
    We judge and jury in the home court
    Give you the clown corpse dead on the sidewalk
    Surrounded by mad pedefors
    Your whole frame laid in the white chalk
    You got the smoking section
    First-class tickets to resurrection
    Forever destined to a place where N-S never rest in
    Headed in hell's direction
    Lost at the crossroads and intersection
    Should've wore a vest for chest protection
    Slug fill you to capacity, someone at the dance
    Someone with the hand velocity of Butch Cassidy
    Bitch N- with the audacity to blaspheme me
    Got yourself caught in a motha-fuckin' tragedy

    Drums of death

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