Lordz of Brooklyn (OST Mafia: The City of Lost Heave) - Lake of Life | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Lordz of Brooklyn (OST Mafia: The City of Lost Heave)
• Lake of Life

CHORUS
Where do gangstas go when they die?
They don`t go to heaven where the angels fly

As the guitar gently sweeps, my Rivera streaks
Into the night like a bat out of hell
All the wishes in the well couldnґt keep me from my cell
I`m feeling paranoid I couldn`t trust my clientele
The Marlboro blows, I blow the smoke through my nose
You reap what you sow, and Lord I know
I took route 87 upstate New York
I`m feelin like I sinned, so I must be getting soft
Got an angel on my right, the devil on my left
Conscious being on my brain, for every single death
I`m seeing ghosts, I`m being haunted like the tell-tale heart
I`m on the road alone, headlights in the dark
I never ever ratted, kept my mouth shut
Bad karma all aound, and I`m running out of luck
Next soldier wants my job, better watch my back
Or I`ll be the one in the trunk getting whacked

CHORUS
Where do gangstas go when they die?
They don`t go to heaven where the angels fly

Flatfoot on the street, rookie on the beat
Looking for the crack spot, trying to hit a jackpot
Have not , want not, gun shot, blough
Dirty cop on the prowl, itґs all legal
F*ck karma, chameleon, Irish, Sicilian
Heritage since birth, sold my soul for what it`s worth
From London to Perth, Tokyo to Paris
Caught in the Abyss like my name was Ed Harris
Trying to build this palace, my heart`s full of malice
My soul`s corrupt, I`m about to erupt
Internal investigation`s got me facing 25 to life, I`m thinking kids and wife
They cut me up, rough me up, and sweat my connection
Now they got us all under witness protection

CHORUS
Where do gangstas go when they die?
They don`t go to heaven where the angels fly

Before there was a lotto, his people took your numbers
Odds on the game, the point spreads over/under
Went to private school, educated by nuns
But like a pagan lost his faith through the gods of the guns
A heist like the Brinks, iced ladies like rinks
Thought they`d never see the clink
Slapped on the wrist, his case was dismissed
You see, money talks, yo, it pays if youґre rich, pops
Grease the bulls, just to bribe the judge
Should have scared ґem straight, should of gave ґem tough love
But that`s when they hauled him from the jury to the warden
Everybody had a price, but this time they can`t afford ґem

CHORUS
Where do gangstas go when they die?
They don`t go to heaven where the angels fly

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