The Lyrics
A Don's long crime we know,
The mob's many members.
How their antics muse when they get riled.
There's a few when they had their chance,
They had made heaps of finance,
Gone heavy as their taxes go un-filed.
One February left in rigor,
In every paper shown those triggered.
Bad dudes took some war steps,
Then with the fishes more slept.
It's just remembered seven died,
Laid them dead about all riddled, fried.
They got in dutch with wisened guys,
Was quite a news week ride.
Some wise guys took a whackin' and died,
Mowed them heavy, took out ev'ry,
got too "nebby" [1] these guys.
And Capones'es boys were movin' whisky and rye,
Thinkin' we can make some hay on the side,
We can make some hay on the side.
Some Jew cooks the books and thus,
'Cause the mob puts faith "In God We Trust".
Vice you trifle, must pay though.
They so believe in stocks and gold,
Some mavericks let into their fold,
It's the reaching for finance, real dough.
Well, you know you tried your luck. a whim,
'Cause you did some gamblin', drank some gin.
You're done licked by the booze,
So, get to givin' them their dues.
He lost his only greenage, and his truck,
At the "Drink Bar Nation" was this hicked up smuck,
But they knew he was down on luck,
That day some guys came wise.
He finished drinking,
"Hey guy, want a piece of the pie?"
Drive our chevy meet our heavies,
And pick up some supplies.
Meet with two old boys, we call them "Blinky' and "Sly",
Sneak not up upon them 'cause they hate surprise,
Sneak not up on "Blinky" and "Sly".
Those with tenure get a piece to own,
The boss grows fat 'cause he's made his bones.
From bootleg booze delivery,
Don't pester 'round with things in Queens,
Take an oath so hallowed, goes unseen,
It's their choice, they all take faithfully
Such is style "our thing", all bookings down,
The messers told not hang around.
Each courtroom case adjourned,
While edicts reap returns.
Those seven dead they left some marks,
Like hornets messed with came these sharks,
With dead bang surges in the dark,
Went crazed these lunic guys.
Came the stinging,
Wise guys buyin' Canada dry,
Like a bevy load of heavies,
Come the heavies, men die.
These true told boys like winkin' "Blinky" and "Sly",
As stingin' this is just their way, these wise guys,
This is just their way, these wise guys.
Beltzer, Seltzer, Jones and Sommers shelter,
Law lords blew off all the fallout felt there.
Aids file high gets rulings cast.
Each landed foul of laws past.
The soldiers hired headed for the pass,
Days of yester, when the guidelines, wore no mask.
The graft crime lairs were filled with goons,
As they target prey; get judges tuned.
The robes got paid in cash,
Oh, how they turn the law to trash.
All the players got their pockets filled.
The barging clan infused their yield,
They don't recall, nothing's revealed.
Those guys so manic wise.
Everyone's drinking,
My, my this American pie,
Profits heavy, charge no levy,
Tax not any who buy.
No good make noise when movin' whisky and rye.
And thinkin' we can buy out Canada dry,
We can buy out Canada dry.
And there they were in each others face,
A tribute placin' on each case.
It's just crime left to smartened men.
They come on - "Mack" and "Jimbo" "Jack Da Quick"
Whack fast before a scandal sticks.
Cross fired hear the leveled shotguns' din.
Oh, what be the cost if war we wage?
Their Dons are pitched in fits of rage.
Their anger will bring hell,
They break out shots and shells.
And as the lame go limping off in fright,
This ain't no law official fight.
They call saints in from the left and right,
The day the booze reeks wise.
They keep drinkin',
Rye-rye, we'll drink Canada dry.
Hauled in Chevies drove by heavies,
So that many can buy.
Them wise old guys are playin' risky and spry,
They're bringing in and makin' hay as sun shines,
Makin' all their hay as sun shines.
And then one day there came the news,
Eighteenth amendment so abused,
The law guys filed and turned it stay.
Was taken down their sacred whore,
Now it's hurt their music, cheers no more.
But the clan there found another game to play.
So on the streets the illin' feeds,
In cover hide, and they know its needs.
With their net worth unbroken,
These lurch sell junk for pokin'.
And of these men who are wired most,
God Father's Guns they're "Cosa Nost".
They got real fast trained coast to coast,
Got they a new stick flied.
The junk they're slinging,
Wise guys gets you Mexican high,
Drove in Chevies cross the levees
Where the Rio Grande's dry.
Got them mucho boys they're bringin' stink weed and fly.
Bringin' whistle blow and junk to get high.
Whistle blow and junk to get high.
It's legal drinking,
Wise guys keep America high,
Drugs so heavy, no tax levy,
So that many can buy.
Got them mucho boys they're bringin' stink weed and fly.
Bringin' whistle blow and junk to get high.
Whistle blow and junk to get high.