Artist: The Godfathers (Kool G Rap & Necro) Album: Once Upon a Crime Song: Omerta Typed by: Matt Jost (w/ help from liner notes) [ VERSE 1: Necro ] Let off the pistol chrome at any Joe Pistone Confess to an Episcopal bishop how my biscuit clipped domes The biggest mob figures and gunslingers together In the same room for a ritual, my trigger finger's severed As this card burns, may my soul burn in hell forever If I betray the oath of omerta Don't push a button man's button I'll bloody up anyone that butt in And stab your man's gut in Blood in, blood out, rammed up the butt end For your moronic plea copping Cause they caught you with electronic eavesdropping Now something demonic, screamin: Please stop him! Stop the meat cleaver chop him Can't - that's our society's secret keep-him-quiet option The boss will sanction a shanking, then you'll thank him For the privilege of being ranked as the pillager of anxious action My council varies, concealed pencil like utensil In your frontal lobe mental, thank you, consigliere [ CHORUS: Necro ] We'll murder anybody, anytime, anyplace At the snap of a finger, pop you in the face Issue contracts to kill people, never say us We'll sentence you to motherfucking death if you betray us Peace to all the gangsters doin time in Marion Rikers, Leavenworth, Folsom, Attica - we'll carry on Tradition, the most powerful Godfathers in America, G Rap and Necro, you cowards fold [ VERSE 2: Kool G Rap ] Balls get slit on a fraudulent bitch, hauled in a ditch Rope all on his wrist, fist all on the fifth, paint the wall with your shit No luck, fuck boy, you non-McCoy, unofficial I squeeze hard on the pistol, make your artery sizzle Get laid down, put the trey pound god on your whistle To your sodomy tickles, shit'll harden your nipples Make you sleep longer than Van Winkle Fuck stomach cuts, I hold your stomach guts in my hands mangled Tuck chromey in a tuxedo, tussle lonely Like fuck any Tough Tony, plus his homies Thug hobby clown, you Bobby Brown's Tenderoni Leave your mom's head in your bed, we don't touch ponies Ballads with violence, leave niggas 40 caliber style bent Foul as Afghan Taliban wild men Screw on silencers and eat salad over the violins Commission vote for slittin your throat, niggas is prowlin [ CHORUS: Necro ]