Mafia (G-Funk)

Based on the book: Mafia by Ryan Gingeras. Lyrics: [Intro] Yeah Roll slow through the centuries From the backroads to the boulevards From the gutter to the stars [Verse 1] It start way back, dust on the boots, steel in the hand Before the don, before the suit, before the cornered-up land Bandits in the mountains where the weak got taxed States built like a racket, just bigger, that’s facts Ali in the highlands, kings with a brigand grin “a man of war and woes,” let the long scourge in Roads full of robbers, empires full of thieves Power wear a crown, crime hide in the sleeves Then the world got smokestacks, rails, and a stricter eye Old trails got closed where the highwaymen would ride Forests got counted, patrols hit the bricks Hideouts got “buried under acres of mortar and brick” But hunger don’t vanish when the badges get shine It just move to the alleys where the city lights blind So the blade met the market, and the market met vice And the law made a product every time it named a price [Chorus] They say “the true princes who govern us” Hidden in the dark where the neon cover us From booze to dope, from the docks to the throne Every state got a shadow when the money get grown They call it order, they call it crime Same old hunger in a new suit every time From the gutter to the stars, hear the whole world sing Mafia in the bloodstream, riding that G-funk swing [Verse 2] Love and relaxation for sale, that’s the seed in the street Bath cards, Cairo nights, San Francisco heat Tenderloin sinners, Barbary Coast glow Machine bosses eat while the “organized crime” grow White slavery panic, opium dens in the news Moral men preach while the city folk choose Then “the abyss of divine enjoyment” got bottled and sold Opium on the ships, whole empires bought gold China got flooded, the treaties opened wide States wrote the bans but demand never died Cops got uniforms, files, and a modern pose Still bribes in the pocket, everybody knows Then the word got weight, from Sicily to the press From “omerta” to the black hand under immigrant stress Tongs in the alleys, Camorra in the cells Mafia in Palermo where the citrus money swells [Chorus] They say “the true princes who govern us” Hidden in the dark where the neon cover us From booze to dope, from the docks to the throne Every state got a shadow when the money get grown They call it order, they call it crime Same old hunger in a new suit every time From the gutter to the stars, hear the whole world sing Mafia in the bloodstream, riding that G-funk swing [Verse 3] Then America hit Prohibition, and the whole game flipped Five Points kids to the bosses with imported shipments Capone in the headlines, Luciano in the mix Atlantic City meetings on that syndicate fix Scarface on the screen, but the docks stayed real Judges, cops, politicians all cut in on the deal Anslinger chased ghosts till the dope map spread Marseille to Istanbul, where the white powder fed Havana in the moonlight, Vegas in the sand One hand shake dirty, one “legitimate” hand After war came godfathers, TV lit the room Joe Valachi singing while the Senate smelled perfume Then Coppola framed it like a family and a state Not just crime, but capitalism dressed up great And the whole wide world learned the code and the kiss How power call itself honor while it move like this [Bridge] [Talkbox] Tokyo with the yakuza ink Hong Kong with the triad links Naples, Palermo, Calabria ride Marseille smoke on the seaside Moscow thaw, then the thieves come through Medellín blue with the money new Kingston, Sinaloa, Istanbul too Everybody got a myth when the cash break through [Verse 4] Century’s end got wild, old rules got thin Heroin wars, crack years, dead judges pinned Falcone fell, Borsellino too Riina brought terror till the whole world knew Gotti loved cameras, but RICO loved wire The old dons got old, and the young ones chased fire Cocaine turned Medellín to a kingdom of fear Escobar built mansions while the bombs came near Mexico militarized, cartels split and grew Russia shed the Soviet skin, new mafias broke through Chechen crews, Albanian routes, Turkish deep-state tales Politicians in the mirror while the public turns pale Now the line go blurry, terrorist, boss, or state Corporate towers wash money while the courts debate You can lock up a don, but the market still hum If the hunger stay legal and the laws stay numb [Outro] So we cruise through the smoke where the history bend Tony said maybe he “might be in at the end” Old codes fade out, but the networks stay live No plaque, no signpost, still the legends survive Not ancient, not forever, but they move with the age From a backroad ambush to a full stock exchange And the lesson stay cold when you peel back the world