La Coka Nostra, Sick Jacken - Soldier’s Story lyrics

We all gonna die telling soldier’s stories
When I buck off the gun watch
Em all duck and run
PE number one, my Desert Eagle weighs a ton
We all gonna die telling soldier’s stories
When I buck off the gun watch
Em all duck and run
PE number one, my Desert Eagle weighs a ton

I got fly bitches twice as hot as Ice La Fox
That’ll get you sliced and popped
For that icy watch
Y’all fucking idiots could learn
A lot about business y’all buying Benzes
I’m putting down payments on buildings
The king of the kidnappings and big ransoms
It’s ILL Bill, homie
I break atoms and spit anthems we Mansons
Grab automatics and throw tantrums
Show you how the fuck we pop off the banger
He was an alchy with lots of coke


A perfect stranger like Balki Bartokomous
He saw the Glock, he froze
He fell to his knees, begged for his life
Said he was holding another ten
Keys with his wife told me her address
Threw him in the trunk of the car
Got ten more bricks plus
Twenty thousand dollars
Robbed him of the bread
Put the cocaine in the jar
Shot him in the head
Took the yeyo then I’m gone

We all gonna die telling soldier’s stories
When I buck off the gun watch
Em all duck and run
PE number one, my Desert Eagle weighs a ton
We all gonna die telling soldier’s stories
When I buck off the gun watch
Em all duck and run
PE number one, my Desert Eagle weighs a ton

We place the O in the soldier
Wear the mask for the Psycho clique
My name embedded in the game like a microchip
You hear the name and you know
That the mic get ripped psycho Realm, LCN
And we don’t like your shit
I keep my spit raw with street slang
I script all unauthorized biographies
Of sick dogs
My block filled with the war stories
So we document the crazy lifestyles
Of the scarred homies
We psycho Mexicans, that’s how we roll
In cliques only and got an arsenal to go
Against your sick army
The casualties of war from
Faculties that fall
The folklore turns real in a street assault
Soldiers dying in the killing fields
This a rap song
That street gang banging shit is really real
Don’t get it confused, the city kills
I burn nine milli drills
The enemy of warfares, get it ill

We all gonna die telling soldier’s stories
When I buck off the gun watch
Em all duck and run
PE number one, my Desert Eagle weighs a ton
We all gonna die telling soldier’s stories
When I buck off the gun watch
Em all duck and run
PE number one, my Desert Eagle weighs a ton

I reach my speech bitterly
Through every bitter release
Chasing demons out my mind to
Get rid of the beast
Walk across roads of lost souls
Considered deceased
Then watch the puppet masters dangle
Strings litter the streets
The young man pulls his jeans
Crease fitted his piece
By his belt buckle, grabbing his balls
Gritting his teeth violent and lone
Waiting just to settle his beef
His fate becomes a weight inside a
Heart so heavy with grief inside a cemetery
Children of the '70s sleep
Products of the '80s fight for
Hell and Heaven each week
Dormant dreams and the doorways
To never be reached
Now it’s absolutely evident whenever we speak
For me to pick up all the pieces
Sick assault from a sicker soul
Watching girls sliding down a stripper pole
Sniffing blow the drug game’s a sport
It’s not pick-up ball
I got a five-year Mando right next
To my dick and balls

We all gonna die telling soldier’s stories
When I buck off the gun watch
Em all duck and run
PE number one, my Desert Eagle weighs a ton
We all gonna die telling soldier’s stories
When I buck off the gun watch
Em all duck and run
PE number one, my Desert Eagle weighs a ton