Long John & The WZA - The Italian Job (feat. Bless Picasso & Don Plemo)

Eat condorelli
Feeling like John Dorelli
Can't reach me on da celly
If you need we armed and ready
Sipping Dom and Remy
On the real you don't want problemi
From the deli to the stoop
No canned spaghetti
If you want to get loot
Go and Pass the fetti
Me and Bless shoot for free
Nash and Reggie
Even gonna leave prints like Macchiavelli
Let me stroke the cat
Bitch i'm dope at rap
She want to throw it back
Plus the dome is fat
Suck the soul out you bro
Ouch the bones will crack
Had to leave the bitch with a broken back
Smack fire out the perpetrator
See you later
Meet your maker in Jamaica
Smoking weed by the acre
Fucking hater who say the white boy got less flavour
You can ask Chet Baker or the neighbourhood bodega

New forty with the new blue laser no crew's greater
If you is a hater do us a favour and say your prayers
Douse em' with hollow tips John the novelist
I wrote a best seller in my sleep the don is obvious
I roamed the halls of private collages and wasn't enrolled
Found pretty things later on I was touching their souls
Caught a chest cold from icing a new piece that's mandatory
Of course I'm ten toes down whatever stands before me
It's all for glory duffle bags full of cash rules
Peace I'm here to collect on everything I'm past due
From nights eating fast food instead of grass fed
From the butcher's shop my people selling dope back to the crooked cops
For us to make it look it took a lot
After bucks like Vin Baker yo they see what I'm cooking watch
They try to bite the recipe with no skills
In the kitchen know this Jordan and Stockton with the pick and roll easy

Written by:
Bless Picasso, John Wilson

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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