(Chorus X 2)

Get outta my way when I'm blasting my gun
Got 99 bullets but it only takes one
Got a chrome .45, a razor-shrap machete
La Coka Nostra, the fucking world ain't ready

Get outta my way when I'm blasting my gun
Got 99 bullets but it only takes one
It's murder in the first, pre-meditated
La Coka Nostra, the fucking haters hate it

(Verse 1: Slaine)

Here comes the mighty ones they call whiteys
This is cinematic but ain't directed by Spike Lee
It's La Coka, not fourty acres and a mule
The corner hustlers want fourty quakers and a tool
Breaking all the rules with the hammers and the baggies
Since I moved to Southie and my nanny used to nag me
"Do your homework, get off the street, read a book."
Instead I rode around like, "Fuck it. I need a hook."
And you should see the looks that I get when I'm walking now
You should see the respect I get when I'm talking, wow
It's like the whole world spun around
Throws out to undergound, I supposed everybody knows

(Verse 2: Big Left)

Yeah, the surgeon's general, sergeant at arms
Black ops insurgant dropping hydrogen bombs
Recognicance salut, report a confirmed kill
Record a thirty millimeter grenade launcher mortar
You weak mother fuckers need to change your material
Serial kill M.C.'s diseased venereal
Imperial Lord, fucking Big Left's a god
Capo regime, original head nod
The all-American king of late night, Letterman
Medicine for all of you head-poppin' (?)
Razor bleed in your cheek, machine gun to the cheek
Jungle warfare, using the streets

(Chorus)

(Verse 3: Ill Bill)

My worst intentions like a terrorist with nuclear weapons
It's Ill Billion dollar Bill and you're a useless investment
Behind every great fortune is a shooter's confession
If only the long-nose dough continued to bless them, wet them
My holy water stolen Soviet automatics
From Odessa from street corners to borroughs
It's the extra special
To these bitches my dick is existencial
Porno director, let bitches know if they have potentional
La Coka Nostra, I walk around with the chrome toaster
So coked that my nose is totally fucking frozen, drug music
Like the coke rock my uncle would smoke
Got junkies doing the robot for bundles of dope

(Verse 4: Everlast)

I hear they don't want to call it Hell's Kitchen no more
I swear hip hop got me looking at the front door
I used to love her, now I want to smother
When I see all the bastard styles that she's mothered
Fuck the Dalai Lama, it's the drama starter
I'll blow the spot like an Al Aksa martyr
Better lock up your guns, hide away your daughter
Keep the Irish boy away from the fire water
Cause the fire water numbs the Irish man's pain
And it's the Samurai Druid from the Highland Plains
Like William Wallace and Michael Collins
Beat you down, scream on you like I'm Henry Rollins

(Chorus)