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[Verse 1: Slaine]
I was born in Dorchester in the midst of the torn seventies
With bad memories, bad habits, and sworn enemies

Terrifying prospects, baptized in fire
Black Irish chipped teeth, fast lives and liars
Cars with fast tires, bitches with no morals
Money with no questions, caskets with no florals
Bodies with no headstones
, dirt naps and apathy
I grew up in this, now the worst cats is after me
Junkies and con artists with the rivals and survivalists
Eyes emits a deep abyss, I sleep with this connivingness
No wonder why this virus blister when you ride with us
We can’t rid of all the sickness that’s inside of us
It’s just a gun but it feels like it’s such a heavy burden
It’s just a song but I feel the need to fit every word in
It’s just some whiskey but I can feel that the Chevy swerving
Are you ready to die now? You better be certain


[Hook x2]
Make moves like Mossad, I’m close to God
Close to the jackpot though the road is hard
I’d rather take a bullet to the dome than stop
So I’mma keep on going till the world is ours

[Verse 2: Ill Bill]
Fools cause problems to rise start eons ago
Shoot on targets and dive bomb, we on a roll
Ski on the snow, try not to sniff yourself off the cliff
Know the ledge, know who your enemy, be certain who’s your friend
My shooters laugh at things like human trafficking
And looming anarchy, impending doom, consuming savagery
But keeping it real goes wrong it’s not funny
You can your aim fucked up like Slick Rick when he shot his cousin
I seen the worm holes through sherm smoke
Seen family members burn coke and OD then turn cold
Secret to surviving is not dying and pop iron
Stop trying to be something you’re not, stop lying
Death and life are in the power of the tongue
Watch your mouth, what you say could get you showered with the gun

Crew spray your soul away
Draped in hatred and torture Bones Brigade like Stacy Peralta

[Hook x2]

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