Coka Kings

[Verse 1: ILL Bill]
You get hit like surface-to-air missiles
Get crashed like Zildjian cymbals
My aura is a force-field that can withstand pistols
And nuclear payloads that erase whole continents
Turn global occupants to smoldering apocalypse
Coka inclined to pain, Coka and the Hologram
Broken Bottle Gang, buck-fifty you in Rotterdam
My goons are carnivores and outlaws that start wars
And scar yours like dartboards, drop you where the sharks swarm
Sub-zero, freezing weather, gun below the Pee-wee sweater
Shoot lead, green Beretta, you dead, we forever
Spaz with the Uzi, hold the chromie to peel
Uncle Howie bragged he used to do coke with Toni Tennille
Flame with the Molotov, commonplace like date rapes in college dorms
I make the Planet Rock like Afrika Bambaataa songs
Die effective martyrs, deaded for doom
Coka Kings: riot tested, Armageddon approved

[Hook]
This Coka Kings, hard body shit
You know that we a problem
Coka Kings, the dope stuff

[Verse 2: Vinnie Paz]
Non-lethal rap, Pazienza, Coka Nos'
Three murderers, father and son and holy ghost
Dig a hole, carry the head of a Trojan goat
My voice carry the power that’s from Jehovah’s throat
Pazienza paranoid so the toaster’s close
Premonition of pain inside the vulture’s cloak
My cousin Lethal cut it up like it was soap and coke
The fat bastard a Trackmaster like Tone and Poke
My bitch carry my hammer inside a Burberry bag
I leave you covered in shells like you a hermit crab
Steadfast and bled fast when the curtain dragged
The haze of infatuation of smoking dirt and skag
Cock the motherfucking Glock, good riddance
Make this motherfucker rock like if Pac was spitting
God-forbidden, put a hole inside your fitted
Take your head with your conscious in it
I’m a G!

[Hook]
This Coka Kings, hard body shit
You know that we a problem
Coka Kings, the dope stuff

[Verse 3: Slaine]
I’m a political prisoner living on this criminal planet
Animal, chemical mixologist, my confidence is brimming
Goddammit, my prominence, escalating to a dominance
The high exalted kingdom of Slaine, the slang poet
The AA, the anonymous, IRA conglomerate
Bombing it, fuck it I’m old school, I stay with that atomic shit
Keep lighting the dust bone when you hit it, cause the embalming's wet
Your dos is don'ts and you ain’t got out of your pajamas yet
My ego’s bigger than Obama’s lips
My lips spit verses of controversy with no mercy, yous are counterfeits
Your money’s no good over this way, it don’t amount to shit
My respect’s my currency, go ahead, try and count the bills
I stack federal notes, you say the angel’s just dangerous
But I can tell you the devil is dope
Ask the heroin shooters, nothing like a rush in the vein
Fuck, I’m insane, still stuck in this illustrious pain