"This Is The End" lyrics - LA COKA NOSTRA

[Verse 1: Bad Newz]
Too many kings, not enough crowns, the circus left town
And forgot the clowns, colorful suits with bozo's boots
Jumping through hoops, juggling fruit, these rappers is cooch'
Masking your douche, clitoris lips, your gimmick is chips, dressing like Prince
No respect, metro sex, throwing up sets
It makes me vexed, middle sex like the county
On your head, a bounty
Claiming you pump keys, make G's, begging Leedz to perform
At the Middle East, retards in leotards, chia broads
What's next, nose jobs? The Lipo? Like Michael?
That's the light bulb, I been a maestro since [?]
Unlike you typos, blood type is Type O
Moment of truth, you ball and get loose
Platinum noose but your mobile is boose
On the caboose with a beat-up goose
Sipping a deuce, y'all a fluke, a scam
Rub the lamp, shazam
"Gangster I am" said Sam, Green Eggs and Ham
Dr. Seuss, I could shoot a gat and cook crack
Spinning on my back with a fish tank on my hat
Swinging a bat while lighting a match
And these are the dudes who put the Bean on the map
Never busting a strap, be cool with your cheap jewels
Ten karat chain, using music in vain
Stay in your lane, I drop shit like I ain't been potty-trained
Lyrics are paint, simple and plain, mention my name
They'll be chalking your frame, Boston rappers is lame
Identity theft, comic book crooks with nursery hooks
While performing, you're shook
I guess thugging's a good look when you put it in your rhymes
Be cautious with your lines, my dawgs empty.9s
You cowards repping my city, but you ain't from my hood
You live in a ward, same school, different class
Meaning you dudes is ass, meaning your jewels is glass

[Verse 2: Slaine]
Meaning you dudes is fags, this is a few and a half minutes of
Sermons from the mass, a menace of mass ministers
Masterful massacre crafted from sinister minds
Genesis since the beginning of time
There's always been snakes, thieves, liars, envious ones
I'd rather outsmart 'em, why will I pretend to be dumb?
I got a semi-automatic gun, six figure hustle game
Only getting bigger now, who wanna come and muscle Slaine?
New York is the rotten apple, this is a bloody Bean
We move on the radar, there ain't nobody seen
Nobody move, nobody get hurt
Fuck it, stand still, I'm still spilling blood on your shirt
I'm still ill and a real villain, chills up my spine
I'm still getting thrills, pill and bills stuck to each other
Puffing nickels, tucking.9s in the glovey
It's no wonder why 5-0s hate me and the hoes love me
I'm the prettiest ugliest motherfucker with his nose bloody
They'll say I'm pretty ugly, the whole city love me
This is vicious dope sickness, death wishes, no witness
This is show business, I been to Hell too

[Verse 3: Jaysaun]
What can I tell you? I ain't never met niggas more pussy
I smell you, full metal jacket to the straightjacket, holmes
Put me in Bellevue, first stop at the LQ
I can ghostwrite for you, I don't think that it'd help you (Uh-uh)
And one time niggas almost felt you
I'm a G, you a flea, I'm so sorry dawg, we gotta melt you
Play the cards that was dealt you in this Casino war
You're the cancer in the game, that's what the chemo's for
Your armor's chinked up, I see those flaws
Prostituting on the internet, I see those whores
Willy D said you gotta let a hoe be a hoe
So silly-me for tryna stop a hoe from being a hoe (You know)
Jaysaun's raw, what you expect?
I love drugs, love money and sex, that's DMS, okay
I met Keyo, you got a problem with us? Then lay low
Or your next kangol will be a halo
You can't rap, you a rat with a fake flow
And I'm the torpedo, made your whole boat sink slow
I never write nothing, I like to inflow
And you a cheap copy of me, we made it at Kinkos
Nicer than us? I don't really think so
Throwing everything at you, even the kitchen sink, holmes