Paroles Soldier's Story de La Coka Nostra

Textes et Paroles de Soldier's Story

(Everlast)We all gonna die telling soldier?s storiesWhen I buck off the gun watch em all duck and runP.E. number one, my Desert Eagle weighs a tonWe all gonna die telling soldier?s storiesWhen I buck off the gun watch em all duck and runP.E. number one, my Desert Eagle weighs a ton(Ill Bill)I got fly bitches twice as hot as Ice La FoxThat?ll get you sliced and popped for that icy watchY?all fucking idiots could learn a lot about businessY?all buying Benzes, I'm putting down payments on buildingsThe king of the kidnappings and big ransomsIt's Ill Bill homie, I break atoms and spit anthemsWe Mansons, grab automatics and throw tantrumsShow you how the fuck we pop off the bangerHe was an alchy with lots of cokeA perfect stranger like Balki BartokomousHe saw the Glock, he froze, he fell to his knees, begged for his lifeSaid he was holding another ten keys with his wifeTold me her address, threw him in the trunk of the carGot ten more bricks plus twenty thousand dollarsRobbed him of the bread, put the cocaine in the jarShot him in the head, took the yeyo then I'm goneWe all gonna die telling soldier?s storiesWhen I buck off the gun watch em all duck and runP.E. number one, my Desert Eagle weighs a tonWe all gonna die telling soldier?s storiesWhen I buck off the gun watch em all duck and runP.E. number one, my Desert Eagle weighs a ton(Sick Jacken)We place the O in the soldier, wear the mask for the psycho cliqueMy name embedded in the game like a microchipYou hear the name and you know that the mic get rippedPsychorealm, LCN, and we don?t like your shitI keep my spit raw with street slangI script all unauthorized biographies of sick dawgsMy block filled with the war storiesSo we document the crazy lifestyles of the scarred homiesWe psycho Mexicans, that's how we roll in cliques onlyAnd got an arsenal to go against your sick armyThe casualties of war from faculties that fallThe folklore turns real in a street assaultSoldiers dying in the killing fieldsThis a rap song, that street gang banging shit is really realDon?t get it confused, the city killsI burn nine milli drills the enemy of warfare?s get it illWe all gonna die telling soldier?s storiesWhen I buck off the gun watch em all duck and runP.E. number one, my Desert Eagle weighs a tonWe all gonna die telling soldier?s storiesWhen I buck off the gun watch em all duck and runP.E. number one, my Desert Eagle weighs a ton(Slaine)I reach my speech bitterly through every bitter releaseChasing demons out my mind to get rid of the beastWalk across roads of lost souls, considered deceasedThen watch the puppet masters dangle strings litter the streetsThe young man pulls his jeans, crease fitted his pieceBy his belt buckle, grabbing his balls, gritting his teethViolent and lone, waiting just to settle his beefHis fate becomes a weight inside a heart so heavy with griefInside a cemetery children of the 70?s sleepProducts of the 80?s fight for Hell and Heaven each weekDormant dreams and the doorways to never be reachedNow it's absolutely evident whenever we speakFor me to pick up all the pieces sick assault from a sicker soulWatching girls sliding down a stripper pole sniffing blowThe drug game?s a sport, it's not pick up ballI got a five-year mando right next to my dick and ballsWe all gonna die telling soldier?s storiesWhen I buck off the gun watch em all duck and runP.E. number one, my Desert Eagle weighs a tonWe all gonna die telling soldier?s storiesWhen I buck off the gun watch em all duck and runP.E. number one, my Desert Eagle weighs a ton

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