Текст песни
Somewhere in space, this may all be happening right now
Technical Surveillance, this is U-N-K-L-E 77, I'm requesting permission to land, do you copy?
Roger that
Clear for landing
We're under attack, Ineed immediate assistance
Styles like Al Pacino
Reno until the Borsalino
The mad Dino with the bambino, the Gambino
Digger than Jim Colosimo
More reservoir dogs than Tarantino
Scales for Venezuela, brown as Nino
Making the block hotter than jalapenos
G Luciano
Be wettin' shit like Pesci in 'casino'
Fifty dollar cigar seer
The Bosnia, the mafia
Don poet like Garcia
Drug czar and the baby paw beater
The inmate behind the bar-freer
The Poconos, the panama skier
Down with the Parmesan
Ready to bomb like Vietnam with arms
'cause the hollow-points and phenomenon
The cheddar-spreader
The killer with the gold Beretta
Nigga deader
The sweater-wetter with the hollow letter
Drama-setter
The Paneretta gettin' redder
Kids and mama shredder
The infrared'll blow off an arm or better
The godfather, the problem solver
Coming through with the 6 shell revolver
Hot as lava
Guns skills that reel and in the 'ville I be the barber
Gangster saga, the motherfuckin' face carver
Drums of death hold your breath
Give you a dose of shit that's dope as soda
The underworld family cosa-nostra
Pearl-handle inside the shoulder-holster
G Luciano with a click but nothin' but niggas and chicanos
You get hit up like Castellano
Italiano like crime familia
Nigga, don't get familiar
Me and my goons might have to kill you
Up in New York
We play bloodsports at home court
And hold down forts
Soon as ya caught, get your dome torched
G Rap and DJ Shadow leave your bones squashed
Squeeze the chrome shot, take no shorts
We judge and jury in the home court
Leave you the blown corpse dead on the sidewalk
Surrounded by mad Peter Falks
Your whole frame laid in the white chalk
You got the smoking section
First-class tickets to resurrection
Forever destined to a place where niggas never restin'
Headed in hell's direction
Lost at the crossroads and intersection
Should've wore a vest for chest protection
Slug fill you to capacity, someone at the dance
Someone with the hand velocity of Butch Cassidy
Bitch nigga with the audacity to blaspheme me
Got yourself caught in a motherfuckin' tragedy
Drums of death
Shit is real up in this field, you should be packing steel
If you want to cross the Don, kiss the ring and kneel
If you want to bring the beef, you do whatever you feel
Get your whole family killed, bitch, you know how we deal
This is Offworld Mission Control, notifing Central NCP
We've lost contact with U-N-K-L-E 77
Repeat, we've lost 'em
Does anybody out there copy?
Offworld Mission Control, this is U-N-K-L-E 77, is anybody out there?