Cynic - Pain Gang lyrics

[Intro] You been to jail before? Me? Of course I've been to jail. They don't even want me in jail no more, I'm too old now. They want guys like you [Hook: Ill Bill] Bloods and Crips, the Ñietas, Latin Kings, Disciples, and Vice Lords All crews that bang Vatos Locos, Four Corner Hustler thing, the Mexican Mafia All crews that bang Al-Qaeda, CIA, Hamas, the Mossad, NYPD All crews that bang Non Phixion, Cypress Hill, House of Pain, La Coka Nostra All crews that bang [Verse 1: B-Real] From Don Corleone or to Tony Montana Whatever you are, homie, bikers or bandanas Riders who co*k hammers and soldiers who roll deep I'm a child of the night, homie I don't sleep My crew, we slow creep while you're counting your sheep We bang on anybody stepping up they bleed in the street Maybe you got what it takes to lead a team of cutthroats Maybe you hang around with a crew of f**holes Fakes, frauds, fictional bangers Never held a heater til you had someone take your picture Looking invincible with it, you did it for glory Some did it for real and others they tell stories But the collective we have here's respected Making you an offer you should never reject it You roll with the bowl over, baby the math is simple It's pop pop pop in your temple [Hook] [Verse 2: Everlast] IRA scheming, PLO dreaming, Celtic heathen, peckerwood demon Kicking and screaming through the depths of hell Bareback riding on a jezebel The hammer's co*ked, you get shot by the shell I burnt an angel's wings then sang while he fell There's a party in hell, there's a war in heaven The whole world been shook since 9/11 With m**m extremists and Zionists Trying to rule the world with an iron fist While the junkies and the dealers are doing the bids Uncle Howie say it's time for revolution, kids Don't spill your blood on foreign land Come outside on the block with your gun in your hand If you're mad as f** and won't take it no more Buck shots in the air like you ready for war [Hook] [Verse 3: Ill Bill] We don't die, we multiply This song was not made to glorify gang culture Nor to explore the lives of soldiers or street villains Ghetto superstars, political heroes Compton G's to Brooklyn Deniros Raised from children to k**ers, prisoners to peace prize winners Was Nelson Mandela a terrorist? Let's consider the truth: The biggest gang in the world is the police Our tax dollars pay for no justice and no peace An empty crack vials crushed by ten year old feet On their way to school past the meth heads and dope fiends Anatomy of a true banger, I ain't sh** without my homeboys f** with my set, you get your goons strangled I won't be convicted like Jimmy Coonan And you're not a gangster, who the f** you think you fooling? My ruthless brilliance soon to produce me millions Billy Idol homeboy, peace to Tookie Williams [Hook]